


Dancing with the Devil

by ajie_flu



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Background Character Death, Character Death, Crowley and Feelings, Drama, F/M, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Kidnapping, Romance, Rough Sex, Sexual Content, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-10
Updated: 2014-09-02
Packaged: 2018-02-08 06:31:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 32,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1930245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ajie_flu/pseuds/ajie_flu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ruby is recently without work and deep into a self-loathing-themed binge drink at a local bar when a mysterious business man named Crowley picks her up. Admittedly after two of the best nights either of them have ever had, Ruby and Crowley must decide what to do with their new new-found sexual lust and desires. </p><p>How is it, falling in love with a devil?</p><p>A fair bit of warning: as tagged, there is rough-sexual content, if that offends you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don't think I have seen any fanfiction between Crowley and Ruby! (this is the first Ruby, the blonde one.) So I decided to go for it. Let me know what you guys think in the comments below, criticisms welcome! And compliments, too, I guess would be nice :)

"A beer?" I hail the bartender. He curtly nods and reaches under the counter to pull out a bottle of beer, which he hands to me. I salute him with the bottle as thanks. He grins in return and then goes back to servicing the other customers at the bar.

I sigh as I slowly drink my beer and try not to think about how disgusting I feel. How much of a fucking whore I am. A whore with no life, no family and no job, no peace of mind. A whore who lost her job because of "inappropriate sexual interactions with co-workers", which leaned towards the interesting side because one of those co-workers was her boss. But a whore is a whore is a whore. A whore who can't hold down a relationship no matter how hard she tries because she pathetically just cannot find a man who does not cease to be entertaining to her after one or two nights. "Well fuck me up the ass," I mutter, finishing my beer.

"Gladly," a deep, thick voice sounds from behind me. I whip around so fast that I lose my bearings and take a nose dive out of my bar stool. Only a moment before my face hits the ground, a strong arm wraps around my midsection and pulls me up to my feet, pressing me against his chest and keeping me there. I look up at my saviour, a pathetic sort of whimper escaping my lips. He was gorgeous, by God he was gorgeous. He had a mess of thin, dark hair that met a perfectly tended scruff of a beard. His eyes were dark and beautiful, though at the same time terrifying, feeling as though they were searching through the recesses of my soul. "You alright, love?" he asks in a sickeningly sweet British accent.

I melt. My legs are refusing to work. Good God I am mortified; I can't even stand up straight. I try to respond to his question but all that comes out is another pathetic, unintelligible mumble. The man cocks his head to the side and raises an eyebrow. Only now do I realise how fucking ridiculous I might seem: my legs buckled, hands desperately hanging onto the fabric of his suit, my eyes incredulous as I drink in his beauty. _Fuck, Ruby, get yourself together_. I clear my throat and take in a calming gulp of fresh air. "Uh, yeah. Yes, sir. Thank you, that would have been...unpleasant," I finally choke out, trying to keep my voice as even and mature as possible. Gently I push myself away from God's handiwork, brushing my hands off down my jeans.

The man keeps one firm hand on my shoulder, probably making sure I won't fall back on my ass again. Brilliant. When I glance at it, he grins at me and purrs, "Woa, there cowboy. You sure you're alright?"

_What is air._

_What is life._

I let out a laugh, meeting his dark eyes again. "Yes, thanks." I swallow, gesturing at the bar, then say, "Um, do you mind if we start over? I would rather not start off the night with me making a fool of myself falling on my ass just because of a fucking swivel." I can't quite decipher the expression that crosses over his face. Playful? Annoyed? How-pathetic-is-she?

The man does not say anything, but turns me around, walks me forward and plops my confused ass back in the bar stool I just fell out of before pivoting on his black dress shoes and walking back out of the bar. _What the fuck?_ "Wow, I really must be a pathetic good-for-nothing whore..." I mutter to myself as I pull out my wallet and put some cash next to my bottle on the counter.

I angrily stuff my wallet back into my ass-pocket and am about to stand up when the man casually strolls up to me and whispers, "Hello, darling. Fancy a drink?"

My eyes widen and my breath hitches in my throat. "Gladly," I respond, 100% normally, surprising myself with how fast I recover from his honey-dipped voice and circumstance.

He cranes his neck to check out the bar, then turns back to me and says, "Though I hear the alcohol here is total rubbish. Why not, let's say, go grab a good one back at my place?" When I do not respond right away he adds, "The name's Crowley, by the way."

I stand up so we are face-to-face. "You know what, Crowley? You're right. The alcohol here is rubbish. Care to educate me on the good stuff?"

Crowley shoots me probably the sexiest smile I have ever seen. "That-a girl. Shall we get going?" He holds out his hand to me and I take it without hesitation, making myself forget all about the self-loathing I was diving into only moments earlier. If I wanted this Crowley, then damn it all I will have him. I let him lead me out of the bar, down the sidewalk and into a black sedan parked on the curbside. "Oh, by the way--I didn't catch your name, love."

I thought for a moment, now having to choose my words carefully. I have made a fool of myself enough already and refuse to have his impression of me degrade any further. Looking over at him I say, "I'm the girl who just saved your ass."

Crowley looks confused, but entertained. "And what did you save my amazing ass from?"

I hold back a giggle. "From the rubbish alcohol, sir. If I had not been there you might have suffered from such unfortunate alcohol."

Crowley reaches out and places his strong hand on my thigh, gently stroking it with his thumb. The coarse material of my jeans underneath his palm is almost painful to wear, the urge to have him touch me without them nearly over-riding all of my other senses and making me shudder in hopeless anticipation. "Keep calling me 'sir', darling, and you might be having a problem with your vocal cords very soon."

"Would you rather I call you something different, then, Mr. Crowley?" I ask as he finally pulls up to his house and parks underneath the overhang next to his front door.

He puts the car in park and takes the key out of the ignition. His hand moves from my leg up to my chin, which he jerks in his direction. "Well, love, you let me know when you figure that out." Crowley's eyes search mine and I receive an eerie smile. "Shall I get you that drink now?" he practically purrs in my ear.

"Lead the way," I purr back, again surprising myself by how well I am still able to hide my rapidly beating heart and excitement. Gently I remove his hand from my face and maneuver my way out the door backwards, keeping him in my line of sight. He quickly exits the car on his side and moves past me to unlock his front door, holding it open for me. I give him a slight nod as I pass him and stroll into his entry hall.

Crowley grabs my hand and leads me into an office-type area. Behind the desk, he opens a drawer and pulls out a stout glass bottle with a dark amber liquid--scotch, maybe?--inside. He sloshes it around in the bottle some as he pulls out two glasses, then removes the cork for the top of the bottle and pours some in each glass. "Craig. Aged at least 30 years. That's my poison. Care to try?" Crowley asks, his voice only getting sexier. I take the glass he offers me and hesitantly take a sip, having never tried scotch before as I am more of just simply a beer person. The warm liquid trickles its way down my throat and spreads warmth throughout my body. I close my eyes to savour the taste. "I take it you like it, then, love?"

I nod. "Brilliant." Finishing the glass, I make a point of looking him over before I ask, "So, sir, what now? You have educated me on your fine scotch and have henceforth ruined all other rubbish alcohol for me. What have you to ruin for me next?"

Still holding his glass, he points at me. "You called me 'sir' again."

I close the space between us in just a few small steps, gently taking the glass from his frozen hand and placing it on the desk behind him. "Yeah? And what will you do about that, sir?" I ask as I pull his tie from his suit and thread it through my fingers. "If I recall correctly, you wanted to do something to my vocal cords?"

Crowley's chest starts rising and falling hard and fast, his breath hot on my face. "Yes, indeed I did." His breath gets caught in his throat as I inch my face closer to his, having to stand on my toes.

"And what would you do with them, sir?"

Crowley leans back so he is looking me in the eye and breaths out, "I would have them muted and ripped out that throat of yours so that all your lips can do is move."

"Sir?"

Crowley's jaw clenches, and in one fluid motion his hand clasps around my neck and he shoves me up against the wall with so much force that I swear I hear the wooden wall behind me splinter. I gasp for air and claw at the hand seemingly cutting off my life supply, but he is strong and will not let go. I search his eyes for some insight on what is happening, but am unable to read the emotion on his face. _Who the fuck is this prick?! What have I--_ Crowley kisses me violently, moving his hand from my throat down my torso and back up my back, slipping his fingers beneath my shirt. His other hand grabs a handful of my hair and presses my face closer into his.

"Crowley..." I manage to mutter in between his kisses. They are long and hot and full of so much lust that they override any thoughts surfacing of warning or danger or the morality of this situation. I let his hands travel over the terrain of my body, stroking and grabbing and violating my privacy in every way imaginable. I move my mouth in rhythm with his, my tongue mapping the inside of his mouth. "Off..." I moan, tugging at his suit jacket. Crowley complies, shimmying out of the jacket. With shaking fingers I undo his tie and begin unbuttoning his shirt while he trails kisses down my neck.

"Off," he repeats hoarsely, pulling my leather jacket down my arms and throwing it to the floor. I refuse him the pleasure of taking off my shirt and do it myself, dangling it by my finger tips and backing away from him slowly. How I manage an air and strut of confidence is beyond me, seeing as I have no idea where the bedroom is, but I keep on walking anyways.

"The name's Ruby, by the way."

Crowley looks over at me with a look of utter shock, though his face slowly breaks into a sly smile. I stop at the bottom of a double staircase. He walks over to me in complete control of himself, aiming to seem calm and collected, though I can see the slight twitches of his fingers. When he reaches me he simply plucks my shirt from my outstretched hand and lets it float to the crimson carpet beneath our feet. Our eyes hold for just another moment before I cautiously start heading up the stairs, though still not breaking our eye contact. Crowley follows, just as cautiously, until we reach the landing. From there I have a clear view of the bedroom, which I turn and walk into.

When I hear Crowley close the door behind us I spin around and push him into it, switching our rolls from before. My fingers feel and splay across his bare heaving chest, trembling under the beauty of his figure. I press my mouth to his deeply, the taste of scotch still strong on his breath, before making a trail of kisses down his neck, his chest and torso, until I reach his belt buckle. I smile up at him as I drop to my knees and slowly undo the latch and slide it out from the loops. Feeling more confident with myself, though not letting myself get cocky, I tug at the bottoms of his pants and order, "Take these off." I lean backwards on my heels as, again, Crowley complies. I throw his pants across the room.

"My God you're beautiful..." I trail off as I bask in his manhood. His _huge_ manhood. "Holy fuck," I whimper as I descend, feeling oddly privilaged to be going down on this man. A shiver racks its way through Crowley's body, a deep moan escaping his lips as I run my tongue along the bottom of his shaft. Once I reach the tip, I suck long and hard before working my way back down again. My hand reaches up and strokes his abs while I work, Crowley's fingers intertwining in and fondling with my hair. I pick up the pace, my head bobbing along his length, my finger nails digging into and dragging down the length of his chest.

"G-god Ruby! Fuck, fuck, fuck," Crowley practically growls, his back arching against the door. His grip in my hair tightens and I shudder, but continue to blow the fuck out of him, taking pleasure from his pleasure, priding in myself for making this man scream my name. Crowley shudders and moans again, nearly reaching his peak. My hand slides down his now-slick torso and I grab his ass, pulling him more into me. Crowley tenses up and lets out a deeply satisfied sigh as he cums in my mouth. I barely have time to swallow it all before he pulls me back up to him and kisses me fiercely, pulling me to him and fitting our figures together. "Tell me, love," he murmurs against my lips, "why have you still got those clothes on?"

Without waiting for any further approval Crowley's hands dart behind my back to unhook my bra, which flits down to the floor. He smiles at the sight of my breasts, then shoves me by my shoulders backwards, though not with enough force that I fall on my ass. He seems disappointed by this and tries again, shoving me backwards even harder so that I topple onto the bed. Crowley practically rips off my shoes, then trails his fingers up my legs and unbuttons my jeans, shimmying them down and dropping them off the edge of the bed. I close my eyes and my body shudders in anticipation as he fingers the waist band of my underwear.

"Jesus, Crowley just get on with it already," I moan.

His fingers stop moving and only hover over the skin where they were moments before, making me cry out. I sit up and grope for him, needing him to touch me, pleasure me. I cry out again as he straddles my hips and restrains my arms outwards, pressing down on my wrists. "What did you say?" He purrs in my ear.

I tilt my head back and suck in a deep breath, trying to get my breathing under control. I fail before I even start when Crowley nips at my ear and begins to stick kisses on my neck. "What did _you_ say, sir? I seem to recall you asking me why my clothes were still on, and yet here I am still with cotton covering my pride," I reply frustratingly.

"Now, Ruby," Crowley growls, his hand reaching up to my neck, "what did we discuss?"

Inspired, I smack away his hand and slam upwards into him, flipping him over and straddling him. I grab his hands and place them on my breasts, then grind against him, kissing him strongly. "I can make you every inch a king," I whisper against his lips.

"Oh, I quite like that, Ruby."

"What? 'King'?" I move his hands down to my underwear and help him relieve me of its restrictions. "King of what?" I roll over again, bringing him with me so he's on top of me again. All he does is stare at me, hands unmoving, damp body still. I had envisioned this night the other way around. _God, Ruby, you are such a fucking whore. This poor man_. "What's the matter, darling? Cowardly Lion got your tongue?" I grab the hair at the bottom of his neck and pull his face down to mine, but still not quite touching. "You're turning this night into hell, Crowley. Man up. Touch me. Make me scream your name," I purr against his lips. "Oh yes, there you are. King of Hell..."

"Then that makes you my queen." Crowley thrusts into me and I melt into his arms, my fingers digging into his shoulder blades, holding on for dear life. I grind against him in time with the rhythm of his thrusts, the whole world disintegrating around us. _I never want to go back._ Crowley's hand feels up my stomach and grips onto my breast, massaging it, while the other white-knuckles the head board.

"I like getting kissed while I'm getting fucked," I manage to breathe out, then moan as he goes deeper, harder, faster. His hand reluctantly releases my breast to come up to the back of my head, putting our mouths together, starving for another taste of the other. I frantically pull him closer to me, not wanting an inch of this man to go to waste, wanting to have all of him--wanting to _know_ all of him. I groan in complete ecstasy and reach down the length of my body about to go for my clit, but he grabs my hand and pushes it out of the way.

"That, my love, is my job," Crowley barely breathes out. He trails his fingers down my torso and finds my clit, toying with it. I feel my back arch off the bed as Crowley picks up the speed of his thrusts and I am so close I'm so close, so fucking close

"Fuck, Crowley!" it was my turn to scream, and I let myself completely go, Crowley himself not too many minutes later. The warmth of the mess we make coats my legs and his stomach, but I can't find it in me to care. Nothing exists but the pleasure and Crowley, his hands, his lips. I moan as he collapses into me, our chests heaving so fast and so hard that I am unable to distinguish between the two. The next kiss he plants on my lips is gentle, like a breeze, which sways us to our sides, blowing away all happenings. He splays his hand over the small of my back and slides me closer to him, our twisting bodies fitting perfectly together. I relax into his arms and the exhaustion and the sweat that coats both of us down to the bone. I release myself unto this king and his passion.

"You have pleased me greatly, my king."

"As have you, love," he replies, stroking back wet strands of my hair sticking to my face. He opens his mouth to say something more, but I put a silencing finger to his lips. I don't say anything to him either, he just nods, and sometime after that we both drift off into unconsciousness, trying to relish in the passion of this night.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ruby has a couple nasty encounters with her ex, Sam Winchester. Ruby and her friend Meg talk, and Crowley ambushes Ruby at the bar a second time. Also, Ruby explores herself and her desires further.

Rolling over in the plush bed I sigh pleasurably as the events of last night refresh themselves in my mind. I reach out for Crowley to greet him, but my hand only finds air. My brow furrows and I open my eyes, wondering where he's gone. I sit up suddenly, my blonde hair in a ruffled mess around my face, and look around the bedroom for a sight of him. There is nothing, only the lingering of his presence suspended on the dust in the air. I climb out of the bed and head for the door, not bothering to cover myself. The house seems empty and devoid of any life. _Did he seriously just fucking leave me here._

I hurry down the double staircase and head into his office, half-expecting to find him at his desk, going through papers, possibly enjoying a glass of Craig. _But which papers would they even be? I don't even know what he does. He could be a damn pimp for all I know._

_Shit. Was I just his hooker?_

_But then, again, why would he just leave me here?_

An involuntary scream escapes my lips when I enter into the office and a pair of wide chocolate-brown eyes, _not_ belonging to Crowley, are staring back at me. "Sam! Holy _shit_ , what the actual fuck..." My body goes rigid and I cannot bring myself to even try to cover any piece of my dignity. My eyes actually begin to hurt from being so shocked and every part of me is trembling. _Sam. Sam is here, in_ Crowley's _house, in a fucking_ suit. _What are the odds? What do he and Crowley even have to do with one another?_

" _Ruby?!_ " Sam replies, incredulous.

I roll my eyes. "Yes, dumbass. Who else do I look like?" I think I have rendered Sam speechless and somehow I find that highly entertaining. "What the hell are you doing here?" I shoot at him, momentarily forgetting that I am completely indecent. Not that he probably cares, anyways.

"Me? Ruby, what the hell are _you_ doing here?" Sam asks in a calm voice, which oddly enough, is not hosting any anger.

I angrily gesture at my naked body. "What does it fucking look like?"

Sam averts his eyes and blows out a sigh, running his fingers through his hair. "Wow, didn't take you very long, did it?"

"Well, you did totally stab me in the back," I retort.

"After you lied straight to my face, Ruby!"

"Woa, down boy," emerges a British-coated voice. "I only paid for the one, Moose, get in line." Crowley comes up behind me, slipping a shirt around my shoulders, then planting a slight kiss on my lips. Sam scoffs and turns away, sitting down in one of the chairs across from Crowley's desk. "Sam, this is Ruby. Ruby--"

"Yes, we know, Crowley." Sam interjects, obviously annoyed. "Congratulations on landing the slut. Can we get back to business now?"

Crowley looks between the two of us a few times, then gestures at us and says, "You two know each other?"

"Unfortunately," I mutter.

Crowley sucks in a breath. "Awkward. Well, Sam, thank you for your time this lovely morning. I trust you know the way out." He gestures toward the door with one hand while pulling out his bottle of Craig with the other.

"Wait, what?" Sam asks, confused. "You-you're not going to help me, Crowley?"

"Listen, Moose. I have a lot of things to do, with so little time to preform it all. And your little problem you've come to me with lies on the insignificant scale of things. So no, I'm not going to help you."

"Can't or won't?" Sam asks through gritted teeth.

"Is that really any of your concern?" Crowley asks, uninterested, as he pours himself a glass.

"Yes, Crowley, I think it is!"

"Fine. I can't. Happy?" Crowley downs his entire glass of scotch in one gulp.

"Cro--"

"I can't, and I meant I can't, you mop-headed lumberjack! Now get the hell out of my house!" Crowley shouts, and I can't help but laugh. As Sam passes me by I try to stratigically cover it with a cough, but obviously I fail because he rams his shoulder into me on his way out the door. A few seconds later the slam of the front door echos around us.

"Well..." I trail off as slip my arms into the shirt he gave me and button it up. "I think I'll just...get going then," I mutter and turn to leave the office, eager to be out of his sight as I feel my face heat up more and more. _God, I am so fucking embarassed. First, I make a damn fool of myself and the bar and then my ex randomly shows up at the man I slept with's house finding me_ naked _and yells at me in front of him, who was listening in for God knows how long._ Understandably, this is not how I planned anything to happen.

"And where are you going, Ruby?" I jump and hesitantly turn back around, reluctantly meeting my king's eyes. "And here I thought we were having something special," Crowley purrs as he  pours himself another glass.

"I-I just thought that after Sam...and since I was only basically your play-thing last night I'd just be off."

"Is that what you think?" Crowley asks, taking a sip of his Craig. "You didn't feel like a play-thing. And anyways, who you've dated or went to bed with in the past is no concern of mine."

"If I wasn't your play-thing then what I am to you?" I ask, folding my arms across my chest.

He sets his drink down on his desk and closes the distance between us, tilting my chin so our eyes meet. "You, love, are a very lovely woman, who I picked up at a bar last night, of whom my affections lie with deeply. A woman who I'd very much like to see again," his voice dies off as he buries his face in my neck, sending kisses all the way up until his lips are hovering right above mine. "Unless, of course, you're more of a one-nighter type of gal."

My breath hitches in my throat, my brain unable to process any words out of my mouth. "I, um." I clear my throat, trying to find my voice again. "Yes, sir, I would very much enjoy that."

"I don't have time for your inglorious name-calling this morning, love, I have a meeting," Crowley nips at my ear. His hands find my waist and press me into him, there still being only a thin veil of air between our lips.

"Well, then I won't keep you waiting," I reply. "But don't you dare keep me waiting tonight."

"Dare I ask, what is tonight?" Crowley tries to kiss me, but I tilt my head back in refusal, causing him to groan.

"Tonight...I am going out to get merry. Find me before my moral time of consent leaves me, yeah?" And with that I release myself from his longing grip and disappear upstairs to retrieve my clothing. When I pass the office again on my way out the front, Crowley is still standing where I left him, speechless and unmoving, his eyes following me out the door with a sadness that makes me smile.

***

" _NO_." Meg whispers, eyes incredulous.

"What?" I ask, having just filled her in on my last 12 hours while we clean out her freezer's supply of ice cream.

"You did _not_ just say the name 'Crowley'," she answers, still staring at me.

 _Oh dear lord. I_ am _his whore._ "Yeah...I did. Why?" I ask with caution. “Do you know him?”

"He was my boss, Ruby!" _Oh._ Meg smacks me across the shoulder. "That is disgusting. Really, it is."

" _Was_. Was your boss, apparently, being the key word." She scoffs and leaves to wash her dishes, returning a few moments later. "Hey...Meg. How do you mean 'boss'? What line of practise is he in?"

"Let me get this straight, Ruby: you let this man pick you up at a bar, only giving you his first name, you two share this amazing, heated night, but you don't ask anything else about him?"

"We were kind of busy, dumbass. That sort of thing doesn't really come up during...what we were doing." I scoop out a spoonful of ice cream too big for my mouth, but stuff it in anyways, not wanting to continue.

Meg sighs. "He's a...Well, he is like a business man, of sorts. He makes deals with people. Helps them out."

Intrigued, I prod, "How so?"

"It's...complicated," is all she will say, implying that she is done talking about it.

 _Seriously?_ I sigh. "Alright then, Meg. Whatever. Anyways, how are you and Cas these days?”

“Oh me and Clarence are just fine,” Meg lulls, “you know, sexual insecurities and awkwardness wrapped up in a trench coat and all that.”

“You know, I still have no idea why you call him ‘Clarence’,” I call over my shoulder as I put the ice cream back in the freezer.

“He’s my angel,” Meg says matter-of-factly.

I smile at her and she stares past me, presumably now thinking about her angel. They’re so adorable, the two of them, they have been going out for forever. I wish I could have a relationship like that. I hope I will…someday.

Meg is suddenly standing in front of me and snaps in my face. “Hey, blonde beauty!” she yells, interrupting my inner soliloquy.

Blinking, I reply, “What. Sorry.”

She sighs. “It’s fine. I just asked you if you had any plans tonight.”

I try to hide the fact that my heart has begun to race at the thought that I might see Crowley again in only a short time. But then again, he might not even show up. He could have been only leading me on, trying to get in my pants one last time before I left. I decide to leave Crowley out of my response and say, “Nothing, just going to the bar. Do you want to join me? Come have a drink with me.”

“You, beer, and a room full of horny sorority students. What do you need me for?”

“Just a drinking buddy. I don’t plan on taking any of those shits home tonight.”

She sighs, obviously unsure of whether or not to believe me. "Fine, let me go grab my keys."

***

“Two beers!” Meg shouts at the bar tender over the cacophony of dunk sorority members and football fans. Apparently it’s a big night if you’re a fan of the Knights, the local college team. I drop my head into my hands, bored. The surplus of human beings in this tiny little bar is getting to my head. Something hits my arm and I look up to see Meg sliding me my beer. “Hey what’s the deal? You’re the one who wanted to come here. Drink your goddamn beer and smile for me.”

I half-ass a smile in her direction and take my beer. I bring it to my lips, but before I can down it like I was planning to, the bottle is plucked out of my hand and placed on the counter beside me. “Crowley!” I exclaim, looking up.

“Hello, love,” he replies simply. Crowley leans down and whispers in my ear, “Hope I’m not too late for your untainted consent.” I shudder as he kisses my neck.

Meg loudly clears her throat and Crowley casually straightens back up, looking in her direction. Meg gives him a curt nod and says, “Crowley.”

“Whore,” he replies nonchalantly.

I look back and forth between the two of them and burst out laughing. “’Whore’. I like that for you, Meg,” I’m able to choke out.

Meg only glares at me. After several moments she finally pulls out some cash and slams it on the bar top. She stands up and snaps in my ear, “Takes one to know one, Ruby.” Crowley and I then watch her twitch out of the bar, but not before she looks over her shoulder and sends a wink in our direction.

I’m still laughing as I turn my attention back to my beer, but before my hand can even close around it, Crowley gives it a shove down the counter. “If I recall,” he says, leaning an elbow onto the bar, “you said that I had ruined all other alcohol for you.”

My laughter dies out and I hope to God he will attribute my cheek’s sudden flush to the heat in this damn bar. “Yes, I do believe that I did. Though that doesn’t change the fact that it is still alcohol, even if it is ‘rubbish’.”

Crowley smirks and holds out his hand. “But that doesn’t mean you have to drink it. You ready, my queen?”

“For what exactly?” I ask playfully. “You know, another person might call this _desperation_.”

Crowley takes my hand from my lap and pulls me to my feet. “Then let me be desperate.” _Good God, I can’t breathe. What have I done to receive such a romantic?_ He searches my eyes for some sort of response when I don’t answer him, searching for any hint of approval. His face falls. “You alright, love?”

I suck in a deep breath. “Yeah, yeah. I’m fine,” I say, smiling at him.

“You know, we don’t have to do this, Ruby. Maybe I am being a bit too desperate.” Crowley opens his mouth to say more, but I push mine against his before he has a chance. He kisses me back slowly at first, shocked, but then leans into it, strongly pulling my body against his. I run my hands up through his hair, over his shoulders, needing to feel all of him at once, not satisfied with all this damn fabric between us. Crowley’s hand reaches up my back, underneath my shirt. I shiver and break away, quickly yanking his hand down, smoothing out my shirt.

I feel the blood rush to my face again as I look around the bar, and sure enough, several people had been watching us, wide-eyed and surprised. I swear I see one guy reach down to comfort his pants. “We should go…” I trail off, grabbing Crowley’s hand over my shoulder and leading him out of the bar. One guy standing by the door gives Crowley a pat on the back, saying something like ‘you lucky bastard’, but it’s too loud to be sure. Somehow Crowley was able to park his sedan in the same place as before, despite the parking lot and both sides of the street packed with cars for the game.

I drop his hand when we reach the passenger side door, giving him a sly smile as I hop in. Crowley walks around to the driver’s side and barely gets in all the way before starting the car and pulling out onto the road. He breaths an air of calmness and confidence, trying to maintain his tough, in-control exterior, but I know better. I can hear the way his breathing has increased, see the slight clenching of his hands on the steering wheel, the small beads of sweat forming on his brow. He reeks of desperation.

I smile at this thought. I smile at the control I seem to have over this blessed man.

“So…Mr. Crowley. Who exactly are you?”

“How do you mean love?” he asks, sparing me a glance before turning his attention back to the road.

“Where are you from? What is your line of work?”

A hint of a smile flits across his face. “Put simply, I am a moderately successful businessman from New York. I like to make deals with people.”

“ _Moderately_ successful,” I laugh. “Why only moderately?”

“While my…business, is very effective, it is not very popular.” His jaw clenches, unclenches.

“Well that’s unfortunate,” I conclude. It’s silent from then on, until we reach his house. I pause as I step out of the car. _I have a bad feeling about this…_ There is just something in the air that I can’t place and suddenly I have this rock in my stomach as I step into his entry hall.

And I was right.

“Oh dear lord,” I mutter, running my hand down my face.

Sam runs his hand through his locks and glares at the wall. “What, are you his whore now?” he practically growls.

“If you’d like, Crowley and I could just go down on our business right here,” I retort. Sam scoffs.

“Sorry, love, he doesn’t pay me enough to see all my _delicious_ glory.” Crowley winks at me suggestively, making a point of mentally undressing me. I can’t help but shiver with approval and chuckle as Sam gags loudly. “Anywho, did you need something, Moose, before I have my locks changed?”

Sam straightens himself and says in a professional voice, “I have a compromise.”

Crowley raises an eyebrow, looking intrigued. “Oh? And what might that be?” When Sam hesitates, obviously not wanting to do business while I’m here, Crowley snaps, “Oh don’t mind her numbnuts, we’re all practically family here. Carry on.”

Sam rolls his eyes, hands flexing at his sides. “Fine. You do what I’ve asked, and in return I will pay you double and/or—“

“Let me manipulate you into heck and gone while I make you my bitch? Yes, that is very tempting, Moose.”

“That’s not what—“

“It doesn’t matter _you_ want, it only matters what _I_ want. And if you want this as much as you’re acting like you do, then you’ll do as I say,” Crowley mutters as he mockingly picks at his fingernails.

Curiosity starts clawing its way through my brain. “I’m sorry, what is it that he wants so badly?” I point in Sam’s general direction, but purposely address Crowley, not Sam.

He makes a silencing motion at Sam, who obviously was about to rebut. “Hush Moose. If you’re my bitch and she’s my whore, then we shan’t have any secrets!” Crowley smiles, obviously very pleased with himself. He directs his attention at me, saying, “Moose, here, wants to disappear. Specifically, he wants to disappear from his brother.”

 _What?_ I decide that I can’t ignore Sam any longer. I spin on my heels so I’m facing him and exclaim, “Dean? Why the hell are you leaving him, Sam?”

“Something…happened. Look, Ruby it’s none of your concern. You lost that right as soon as you walked out on me. My business here is with Crowley, and Crowley alone.”

“Touchy, touchy,” I mutter as I walk past him and into the office, pulling out Crowley’s bottle of scotch. I reach for a glass, but decide against it, just bringing the whole bottle to my lips and downing as much as I can in one gulp. Sam. Twice in one day. Good lord, will I ever be rid of this jerk.

Crowley glances at me ridding of his alcohol, then frustratingly turns back to Sam. “Sorry, Moose. Wish I could help. You've certainly got a lot on your plate right now—looks like you are well and truly on your own." Sam opens and closes his mouth several times, then wipes all emotion from his face, even his apparent anger. “I trust you know the way out.”

Sam doesn’t even hesitate when leaving this time, and he doesn’t look back. I swallow the last of the scotch and frown at the empty bottle.

“You’re lucky I’m an addict,” Crowley says as he walks into his office, bearing another bottle of scotch. I reach for it, but he holds it back, making a point of grabbing a glass from the drawer and pouring it in. I snatch the glass from him and down it similarly. His eyes widen and look me once over before placing both his hands on my shoulders. “Listen. You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to. I understand if you need to sort out this Sam business on your own.”

I swallow down my anger enough to say, “As long as I don’t have to see his pompous face again; I left him for a reason.”

Crowley shoots me a grin. “Well remind me never to break up with you then.”

I laugh. “We’ve only just met.”

“And that matters why? I see us going places; is that such a sin?” He leans down a kisses me gingerly.

“I don’t do relationships, sir,” I whisper against his lips. “They bore me, I’m unfaithful and hearts always end up broken.”

“Tell me something Ruby—do you peg me as the type of man to be played? You try to play me? I play the tune! Everyone else dances to it.”

His grip on my shoulders tighten. I flinch. “What do you want from me, Crowley? I told you; I’m selfish, I don’t care much for others’ feelings, I’m unimportant. I’m not special in the slightest. Yes, I have an attractive body, but that’s the only thing I got going for me. Why would a man like you waste time on a whore like me?”

“Because you’re _my_ whore, love,” he responds playfully, loosening his grip. Though for some reason I don’t want him to. He continues, “I’m willing to make this work if you are, but regardless,” he pushes a loose strand of my hair behind my ear, “I would absolutely _love_ to get my heart broken by you.”

My heart beats out of time with the universe and ferociously pushes its way up through my throat. I’m tempted to say something clever in response, but I don’t trust my voice not to waiver and betray me. So I do the next obvious thing. I kiss him, hard and desperate. I pull him to me and squish our bodies together, wanting to feel all of him at once. His face, his hair, his chest, the ever-growing bulge in his pants. Our clothes dance in the air around us, falling to the ground earnestly, eager to give us our privacy. Refusing to let his hands leave me for long, Crowley swipes his arm across the length of his desk, sending his papers and books flying in all kinds of directions, the scotch glasses and bottle shattering against the wall. He wraps his arm around my waist and hoists me on top of his desk. I spread my legs and he wastes no time in positioning himself between them, thrusting into me with such hunger that the desk creaks and groans under us.

I moan, tilting my head back, only to be snapped back up moments later by Crowley, forcing our mouths together. His tongue travels along all the hills in valleys in my mouth, dancing in rhythm with mine. “The scotch tastes good,” he breathes out, causing a smile to spread across my face.

“Shit, Crowley,” I gasp as he pulls my hips up towards him, his dick penetrating deeper and his thrusts becoming more and more violent. I break my face away from his, my lungs screaming for air as I struggle to keep up with his changed rhythm. “Holy mother of sin,” I groan, my back arching as the orgasm floods all my senses, my cum running down my thighs. The pleasure pumps through my veins like liquid fire, consuming every cell in my body, refusing to let just one remain untouched. I’m still screaming when he reconnects our mouths with a new longing, still grinding into me. Back and forth, up and down, in and out…

I lean back and wipe the sweat on Crowley’s scrunched face, saying, “It’s okay, baby. You can let go, my king, just let go…” And he does only moments later, his cries reverberating throughout the entire house, ricocheting between the walls, making love with my own screams that are being released. Though something is pulling at my gut, the feeling of something missing. Everything my body has submitted to so far has been the most glorious passion, even more so than last night, and I shouldn’t want more but I do. I _need_ more. My body aches so bad I fear I might shatter if I don’t receive more from this man. “Hit me,” I mumble.

“You want me to hit you, my queen?” he huffs against my lips. My eyes still closed, my eyebrows knitted together, I nod in reply. I feel the absence of his face when he pulls away, but not for long. I cry out as Crowley back-hands me off the desk, my arms protesting as they catch me suddenly. I gently massage my throbbing cheek, the white hot sting rippling down through my neck. The unmistakable taste of blood taints my saliva, but I smile up at him. “Satisfied?” he breaths out. I nod, standing back up, only to be slapped down again. My arms don’t catch me this time round and my face gets acquainted with the carpet. I roll over onto my back and look up at him, anticipating what he’ll do next.

“I think we need to take this party elsewhere, my queen.” In one swift motion, he leans down and wraps his hand around my throat, pulling me to my feet. I gasp, instinctively shooting my hands up to claw at his, needing release. He unclenches his fingers just long enough for me to gulp down a breath of air, then reclaims it. He pushes me backwards towards the staircase, my legs threatening to give in at any moment, and then they do when they reach the first step. My back crashes onto the stairs, knocking the wind out of me. I roll over on to my side, wheezing and raping the air. _Am I going to hell for enjoying this?_

Crowley doesn’t wait for me to regain my bearings. He reaches down and wraps a strong arm around my midsection, half-dragging, half-guiding me up the double staircase and into the bedroom. He shoves me in and closes the door behind him. I stagger over to him and slap him across his face, leaving an angry handprint. Before he recovers I tighten up on my elbow and drive a punch down on his jaw, causing his lip to split somewhat. While he’s down, I grasp both of his shoulders and drive my knee up into his rib cage, causing him the cry out in pain. I smirk. The satisfaction bubbles up inside me as I think, _so_ that’s _what that feels like._

Crowley recovers a minute later, taking me by my neck again and slamming me into the bed post. “You’re tougher than you look, love,” he breathes in my ear.

“Shut up and touch me.” My voice comes out harsher than I intend, but Crowley doesn’t seem to mind. As he takes me into his arms and devours, violates me all over again, the night and moon pass us by until the sun rises and shines not unlike the passion of our night.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ruby and Crowley part ways for the time being, neither sure if/when they will see each other again. Ruby gets angry with his absence. Meg and Castiel take Ruby out, unbeknownst to her, setting her up with another man named Canton Mitchell.

I moan as sleep fades and the afternoon claims me, my body violently protesting the night’s events. My face is flushed and throbs with a pounding in my ears and my back and shoulder feel like an anvil is crushing them. I slowly sit up, rubbing my neck, which feels like it’s shattered in several places. A movement under the covers draws my attention, and I look over to see Crowley rolling on his side, tugging more blanket coverage with him. _He stayed this time._ Or he can’t move, like I barely can. But I took a hell of a lot worse beating than he did, though I wouldn’t blame him for how tired he must be as well.

Still rubbing my neck, I quietly remove myself from the bed and venture out into the hallway, poking my head into different doors until I locate a shower. Eagerly, though still slowly, I get into the shower and bask in the hot water raining down on my bruised body. Each droplet hits my skin, blooming into a pool of warm comfort and trickling down into the drain. I’m so absorbed in the relaxation of the shower that I almost don’t even notice when two strong hands snake their way up my back and begin to massage my shoulders. “Don’t turn around,” he whispers as he continues to work the kinks in my muscles. I sigh and relax into him. After a few minutes Crowley replaces his hands with his lips, trailing kisses down my neck, across my shoulder blades and down my arm.

I turn around to meet his kisses with my own. Our bodies are slick and slide against one another as we gently thirst for a taste of the other. It actually feels nice, moving seemingly so slow with him. There’s no lust, no hunger, no pain; such a blatant difference from only several hours before that it’s shocking. I sigh when he breaks away first, frowning at him. He takes my face in his palms and just looks into my eyes, smiling sadly at me. I cock my head and raise a questioning eyebrow at him. Crowley bends and plants one kiss each on my neck, my right eye. “Sorry about the bruises, love.”

“I don’t mind,” I whisper, thumbing his cheek, surprised and a little disappointed that I didn’t leave a mark on him. “They don’t hurt too badly now.”

“Regardless. That was some night you created, Ruby. You are full of surprises.”

“Well,” I say, reaching to turn off the shower, “I’m glad I could be of service to my king.”

He heaves out a sigh when I step out of the shower. “Are you leaving?”

I pause, my hand hovering on the bathroom door handle. “Do you not want me to?” I reply, turning back to face him.

Crowley studies me for a moment before saying, “Not particularly. Though now that I think about it, I do have a couple of meetings today. Maybe you should leave and we could reconvene on a later date?” A pause. “Unfortunately so, love, it does breaks my heart. Or lack thereof, depending on who you’re speaking with.”

I purse my lips and pick up the marker on the sink, then write my number on his mirror. I close the distance between us and pull him to me, one last heated kiss to satiate my need for Crowley, an ever-growing doubt in my mind that he will actually seek me out again. Every part of me prays that he will, but I refuse myself the pleasure of that hope. Though I don’t even understand why my feelings for this man are so strong, I never—I’ve never connected with someone this strongly before. Why is he any different?

I hope I don’t find out.

“Use it as you wish, my king,” I whisper against his lips, my breath hitching in my throat. When I pull back, there’s a dazed look on his face, like it’s the first time we have ever kissed. I leave him with that and take my leave, the shower starting back up shortly after I close the door behind me. I hurriedly go to retrieve my belongings before he’s finished with his shower and run out the front door with all the dignity I can salvage.

***

“Fuck, Ruby, are you alright?” Meg’s hands ambush my face and neck before I can take one step into apartment. Her eyes wander between the two bruises, her expression unreadable. Even though it was three days ago that I was with Crowley, they still looked pretty nasty. I wave her hands away and walk past her and into her kitchen, where I help myself to a glass of water. Meg slams the door and angrily walks over to me, nearly knocking my glass out of my hands. “Ruby?!” she yells in my face.

“I’m fine, Meg!” I shout back.

“Uh, no you are not!” she retorts, gesturing to my eye and neck. “Shit, did Crowley do this to you? I told you that he was bad, Ruby.”

I sigh and run my hand through my air. “Well, yes,” her eyes grow wide, and I put my hands up defensively, “but it’s not what you think!” I rush out before she has a panic attack.

“How is it not what I think, Ruby! You obviously took a beating from that _bastard_ , you poor girl,” she whispers the last part, stroking my face. I smack her hand away again and receive an angry glare.

“I’m fine, Meg. Things just got a little…rough,” I shrug my shoulders, “but obviously I’m okay, see? I’m still a walking, talking whore.” I try to give her a smile to ease her worries, but nothing seems to be winning her over.

“How do you mean, _things got rough_?”

“I mean it exactly as I said.”

“ _NO._ ” Her eyes grow wide again. I smirk and go to dig through her fridge for any alcohol content. “Ruby, are you fucking me right now?”

I’m able to locate a bottle of beer in the back and smile at it. Straightening up and meeting Meg’s eyes, I reply, “No, I am not _fucking_ you, Meg. Yes, we had rough sex. Yes, I let him hit me a few times. Yes, I returned the favour. I’m _fine_ , Meg.”

Meg just looks at me, speechless. She runs a hand down the length of her face and sighs, finally breaking eye contact with me. “Wow, Ruby. That’s all I’m gonna say on the subject.”

“Thank you,” I say, giving her a mock curtsey.

“Are you going to see him again?” she asks suddenly.

I pause. _No. He’s not interested. I’m finally getting a taste of my own medicine._ “Truthfully? Yes, I hope so. I left him my number, but it’s been three days.”

“Maybe that’s a good thing, Ruby,” she says, devoid of emotion.

“Would you stop with the judgmental looks? ‘To each his own’ and all that.”

Meg shakes her head, obviously still pissed, probably thinking that I’m lying to cover his ass. “Whatever, Ruby.”

Quickly changing the subject, I prod, “So are you still up for games tonight?”

She shoots me a sad smile. “Of course, Ruby.”

***

“Good lord, would you quit with the pounding!” I shout as I stumble to my apartment door. My toes somehow betray me to a chair and my face hits the door with a painfully loud _thud_. I moan and fight to keep my footing as I yank open the door. “What the fuck do you want?” I snap at the floor, trying to keep my balance.

“Shit, Ruby, what’s wrong with you?” a female voice lulls. An arm wraps around my shoulders, but I whack it away and stumble back towards the general direction of the living room. My hand hovers around the length of the coffee table, trying to locate a bottle that wasn’t devoid of liquid.

There weren’t any.

“Ruby?” the voice asks again.

“I—I found a liquor store,” I mutter, gesturing towards the empty bottles.

“And?” they prod. I squint in the direction the voice is coming from, able to identify the two blobs as Meg and Castiel after several moments. I glare at them, will them to leave my apartment.

“And I drank it,” I snap, my voice rough. “What do you want? No, never mind, just—just leave. Go.” Without waiting for a response I saunter into the kitchen and manage to get myself a glass of water without breaking anything.

“I don’t understand,” a raspy voice whispers behind me, “do we help her or do as she says?”

Meg rolls her eyes and replies, “Just do as _I_ say, Clarence.” Castiel tilts his head and looks at her with the ignorant eyes of a child. “Just…How about you clean up this mess?” She jerks her head towards the coffee table. Castiel gives a slight nod and begins the task appointed to him. Meg smiles approvingly at him, then joins me in the kitchen. “You okay, Barbie?” she asks hesitantly.

“Yes. No. It doesn’t matter, I’ll be fine. Thanks for caring, Meg,” I answer sarcastically, finishing my glass of water.

“Yeah…no problem. The Crowley thing still getting to you?”

I sigh. “Maybe, yes.” Meg puts a soothing hand on my shoulder. “It’s been two weeks, Meg! I just don’t understand.”

“Neither do I. You never get this emotionally invested in a guy, and you certainly don’t get batshit drunk over one, either.” I shrug and lean my head on her shoulder. “Hey, I’m sure he’ll call you. Soon,” she comforts, stroking my hair.

“No. He won’t. I was only his entertainment, his whore release. I told him not to waste his time on a whore like me, and I guess he fucking took me up on that. And what do you care, anyway? You fucking hated me with him.”

Meg stays silent for a few minutes, then claps and says in a more upbeat voice, “Well! Me and Clarence, here, just came to kidnap you for the evening.” Meg chuckles, amused at something. I don’t try to understand.

“It’s late, come get me tomorrow,” I practically whine.

Meg smacks my shoulder. “It’s not even eight, Ruby. Get dressed, we’re taking you out.”

Cas steps up to us and clears his throat, awkwardly raising his hand. “Are you sure? Maybe we should reschedule, considering Ruby’s…condition, at the moment.”

Meg waves his comment off. “Pfft. It’ll be fine. Ruby, go get dressed.”

“What’s wrong with this?” I look down at myself questioningly. I was in my yoga shorts and tank top.

She snaps the hem of my shorts. “Nothing _here_. We are going _out_ , which requires a tad more decency.”

I sigh dramatically and say, “Fine. Give me like five minutes.” I slowly make my way into my bedroom, only to stick my head back out and say, “Oh and _please_ don’t go fucking each other in there. I just had the place cleaned.” Meg mockingly shoots me a ‘thumbs up’.

Wanting to get whatever they hell wanted to do with me over with as soon as possible, I end up throwing on just my regular jeans, t-shirt and leather jacket. I don’t even bother with my hair. “Alright, losers, I’m yours.” I mutter, coming out of my room, only to find them sucking face in the doorway. _Way to rub it in._ I scoff and maneuver right past them, straight out of my apartment.

The door closes and footsteps sound behind me. I shoot them the finger over my shoulder before I take the turn down the stairs. “Tonight is going to be highly entertaining,” Castiel remarks.

***

“I’m not hungry,” I comment as Meg subtly guides me into a restaurant.

“Too bad, sunshine. We’re getting burgers,” she lulls, giving me a little shove through the doors. “Oh and look! Company’s all here, too.” She gestures to a two-person table near the centre of the room with a man sitting on the end.

“Uh, Meg? Who the hell is that?”

“I don’t know, Ruby,” she whispers sarcastically in my ear, “let’s go find out, shall we?”

 _Fuck, no. She didn’t. Did she?_ The man at the table stands up when he sees us approaching, running his sweaty palms down his jeans before holding out his hand to me. “Hello, Ruby, I’m Canton.”

 _Fuck. She did._ Utterly speechless, I stand in front of his outstretched hand, eyes wide, my intoxicated body still having problems standing upright. Meg chuckles, taking my hand like a puppet and fitting it into his. “I’m not good with these sorts of things, but I am pretty sure this is when you would introduce yourself,” Castiel’s rough voice sounds in my ear.

“What’s to introduce?” I reply, dropping my hand. “He already knows my name, apparently.” Canton slowly drops his hand back to his side, smiling sadly to himself.

“Well then!” Meg chirps in. “Shall we get this over with?” She takes me by my shoulders and plops me down in the chair, whispering in my ear, “Play, nice now, sweetheart.” I raise an eyebrow at her. Meg mouths a ‘sorry’ to Canton, then loops her arm through Castiel’s and drags him away before I can protest. The temptation to scream ‘Fuck you!’ after Meg is too strong. I cautiously turn back towards Canton, who awkwardly hasn’t taken his eyes off me.

Heaving out a sigh, I pick up the menu, only to put it back down again, the mention of the majority of those foods rising bile in my throat. “Who do I have to kill to get some french fries around here?” I mumble, looking around for a waiter.

“One should be coming ‘round any minute now, I told one to come as soon as you got here…” Canton trails off, reading his own menu. I run my hand down my face. _It’s going to be a long night, and miss Meg is going to hear fucking all about it…_

“Are you two ready to order?” A waitress walks up to our table, pulling out her pad and a pen.

“Yes, thank you,” Canton answers before my mouth can form any words. “I will have a hamburger with fries, a Pepsi to drink. She will have a basket of french fries and a beer.” He gathers together both of our menus and hands them to the waitress, who nods and disappears into the kitchen. I stare at him, dumbstruck. _Who does this fucker think he is, ordering for me like that?_ Canton shrugs his shoulders and smiles. “You said you wanted fries, and Meg said you loved beer.”

I don’t give him the satisfaction of being right and glare at him. “Who are you, really?”

“A riddle wrapped inside an enigma wrapped inside of a taco,” he replies, shooting me a cocky smile.

I shake my head and say, “I am so done right now.”

“I take it Meg didn’t tell you what was happening tonight?” Canton asks delicately.

“No, she did not. And I’m already seeing someone. Kind of.” I sigh. “Not really.”

“Well, then. That doesn’t help with the awkwardness level at all!” he laughs. My mouth twitches somewhat into a smile. “What then, Ruby, would you be doing if we weren’t here tonight?”

The waitress sets our drinks down in front of us and I eagerly grab my beer and down half of it before replying, “To be honest, I have been drinking all afternoon and was on the verge of passing out before Meg came and fucking kidnapped me.”

He raises an eyebrow, studying me. “If you’re trying to scare me off, Ruby, it’s not going to be that easy.”

I scoff. “Who said I was—“

Canton puts his hand up, cutting me off. “Because I’ve been where you’ve been. Both situations, actually. Your significant other must really be something if you’re drinking yourself into oblivion during daylight hours and your best friend is setting you up with some weird guy,” he says innocently, sucking on the straw in his Pepsi. I down the rest of my beer in one gulp. _I don’t like him._

The waitress returns, this time bearing my fries and Canton’s combo meal. He gives her a curt nod and says, “Thanks, this looks amazing.”

“You’re very welcome, you two. Enjoy your date!” She shoots us both a smile.

“No, we’re not—” I try and clarify, but she is already gone. “Fuck,” I mutter, slumping in my chair. Canton laughs while I angrily pick at my fries.

“So, Ruby. Tell me about yourself,” he says, taking a big bite of his burger.

I shrug. “What’s to tell? I just got fired from my job for inappropriate sexual conduct and have been hopelessly been sulking around the past couple weeks waiting for that sadistic bastard to call me. Not very interesting, if you ask me.” Canton chuckles, wiping his face with a napkin. “What.”

“Nothing, it’s just that I find that _very_ interesting.”

I scoff, rolling my eyes. “Right. A drunk whore shows up as your date and you say _interesting_.”

“Yes, actually, I do.”

“You have a fucked perception of reality, Canton.”

“Thank you,” he gives me another cocky smile and resumes eating his meal. I awkwardly watch him eat in silence for several minutes before I finally begin working on my fries.

“Holy mother of sin,” I mutter, staring at my fries. Canton practically chokes on his last bit of hamburger and looks up at me, eyes wide, raising an eyebrow. “Umm, have you tried these fries?” I ask, incredulous, waving one in his face. He fearfully shakes his head. “Amazing. It’s like deep fried crack. Try some.” I hand him my fry.

Slowly, with an odd expression painted on his face, he plucks the fry from my outstretched hand and takes a bite of it, then finishes it off, looking satisfied. “Ok…” he mumbles.

“Fucking good, right?” I prompt.

“Yes, indeed they are.” He stares at me for a second more before bursting out laughing. “See, Ruby? You are a very interesting character.” He replaces his plate with his basket of fries and I let myself smile. It stays silent after that, while we both finish our fries. Canton hails the waitress and gives her cash for the bill. “Shall we get going, then?” he asks. I nod and follow him, navigating us out of the restaurant.

“Is Meg ever coming back?” I blurt.

“Nope! It’s still going to be just you and me,” he replies, grinning at me with that cocky edge. He leads us up to a little blue car and opens the passenger door for me. “Do you live close around here?”

“You’re taking me back to my place?” Canton looks at me questioningly. “Or I am taking you back to my place?” _I’m really not liking him taking all the leads tonight._ Granted, I am still pretty drunk, but I have never let a guy have this much control over a date. This is ridiculous.

He nods in understanding, then shrugs. “Whichever you like, I suppose,” is all he says, then goes over to the driver’s side and starts the car. _God, he’s vague._ I sigh and get in the car, closing the door behind me.

“It’s alright,” I say when we reach my building, unbuckling myself, “You don’t have to walk me to my apartment. I think I can manage that bit on my own.”

Canton answers me by turning off the engine and unbuckling himself as well. He gestures to the building saying, “After you.” I resist the urge to strangle him.

The silence only seems to grow in awkwardness as we ascend the stairs to my apartment. I praise the lord when we reach my door. “Well, this is me,” I mutter, pulling out my key and inserting it into the lock.

Without any advance warning, Canton places his hand over mine, halting my attempt to open my door, and presses his lips to mine. I shy away at first, but he is persistent and grabs the back of my head, pulling me to him. I can taste the burger and Pepsi on his tongue, feel the grease on the hand snaking up my back. After a few moments, however, I think _what the hell_ and grab a handful of his hair, moving my lips in time with his. The hand on my back slides back down and traces the waistband of my jeans to the front, where he wiggles it down, sliding his hand underneath my waistband and underwear. I break away from the kiss and glance down at his hand, wondering what the actual fuck is happening. _This man is a_ guy _, right?_ He cuts off my thought processes, fitting our faces together again, his mouth smiling against mine as he pushes me up against the wall. I don’t have time to stop him before he jams his three fingers up my canal, making me gasp in surprised pain. While my dumbstruck mouth is figuring out what it should do, his lips ghost along my jawline, down my neck. His fingers continue to work inside me, pleasure actually starting to bubble up inside me. I moan.

“There you go,” he whispers. I lean my head on his shoulder, my body shivering in anticipation, though I’m not sure what for; I’ve never been worked on like this. Canton continues to suck on my neck as I cling to him, wondering how long this is going to last when suddenly I feel my muscles unclench and he places a firm hand over my mouth, guiding me through my orgasm. My teeth grind together as he muffles my moans, my hands practically tearing at the back of his shirt. He gives one more thrust with his fingers before pulling out, bringing his hand up to tilt my chin towards him. “Shhh,” he whispers, pulling his hand away from my mouth. I groan softly, pleasure still coursing through me as he brings our mouths together again. I pull him closer to me, deciding not to fight him anymore.

“Well, this is awkward,” a thick, British accent purrs. Probably harder than necessary I shove Canton off of me and he cries out when he knocks into the opposing wall. I turn around to see Crowley casually leaning in my open doorway, hands tucked away in his pockets. I can’t even bring myself to mask the embarrassment and shock that is now covering my face.

“Crow—you—” I stutter.

“Hello, honey, I’m home,” he says, raising his eyebrows, a smile playfully tugging at his lips.

“Who the hell are you?” Canton asks, groaning, as he stands back up.

“Oh, she didn’t tell you?” Crowley detaches himself from the doorway, closes the distance between us and kisses me softly. He pulls away and my wide eyes search his for any answers as to what the fuck he is doing here or anger or humour or _anything_ , but I find nothing. He turns towards a dumbstruck Canton and offers him his hand. “Hello. The name’s Crowley.”

Canton hesitantly accepts Crowley’s handshake, obviously as speechless as I am. He peers at me over Crowley’s shoulder and opens his mouth, but shortly closes it, deciding against whatever it is he was planning to say. I swallow and speak first. “What the hell are you doing here, Crowley?”

He breaks off the handshake with Canton and comes to stand by me. Still eyeing Canton he says, “Well I do live here, don’t I?” He asks playfully, smiling, still, in Canton’s direction. _What the fuck is he doing?!_

Canton gestures between the two of us, understandably confused. Hell, _I_ was confused! “You two—are you together, Ruby? You live together?”

My heart is pounding in my ears so loud that I can’t hear myself think. “Um…” is all I am able to choke out. Crowley puts his arm around my shoulder, still smiling at Canton. I shrink away, trying to melt into the wall, wanting to disappear from existence. I don’t think I have ever been this embarrassed or speechless in my entire life. _Good god, shoot me now._

“And Meg still set us up?” Canton gasps, surprised.

“If I may interrupt this…whatever this is,” Crowley interjects, “how about we all just cut to the chase, yeah? Canton—is it?—Canton is just leaving, then all of us are going to forget about the events that transpired tonight. Isn’t that right, dear?” He asks the latter in a firmer tone, turning towards me.

Canton, out of his shocked state, sends me an angry glance then addresses Crowley. “My sincerest of apologies, sir,” he says, his jaw clenching. “Had I known that she was already in a relationship, I wouldn’t have entertained this date." A pause. "Or her sexual desires, for that matter,” he adds, sending me a wink. Crowley stiffens, Canton obviously holding back amusement. “Ruby. Crowley.” He nods at each of us, respectively. And with that, he turns and retreats back down the hallway, leaving Crowley and me alone inside a shit atmosphere full of awkwardness.

Once I witness Canton disappear down the stairs, I round on Crowley. “What. The. Fuck are you doing here?” I shout, storming past him and into my apartment. Does he really just think he can show up _in_ my apartment, and after refusing me for two weeks? What the hell is this guy playing at?

Crowley follows, nonchalantly, clicking his tongue. “He called me ‘sir’.”

Wait. “How did you even know where I lived, let alone get yourself in here?”

“I’m not sure I like him, very poor choice in a suitor, my dear,” he continues, completely ignoring me.

I snap in his face and yell, “Hello! Earth to fucking Crowley.” Obviously entertained, he looks at me and smiles. “Are you going to answer me instead of droning on about a stupid fucking mannerism?”

He shrugs. “I made a few calls. Excellent locksmith, you got, by the way. Very pleasant man.” I scoff and angrily trudge to the fridge.

All I see are empty shelves, devoid of any beer. “For the love of all that is fucking holy,” I exclaim, slamming the fridge door.

“Looking for this, love?” Crowley dangles an opened beer between his fingers. _My_ beer. Now it’s personal. “Last one, too. Though, I’m still unclear on why you still drink this rubbish,” he mutters, giving the bottle the evil eye.

I roll my eyes and easily swipe it from him, then down it like I’ve been parched for days. “Get out.”

“Thirsty, much?” Crowley chuckles, obviously still viewing this as a joke. “You didn’t even try and savour the taste of it. Or rather, get intimate with all its great _components_.”

 _What the hell is he rattling on about?_ I shake my head, then regret it, the motion making my head feel like it was getting railed on. “What? No, just,” I ramble, suddenly unable to get my words straight. I make a gesture at the door, though it probably comes off like a blind reach. “Just. Get. Out,” is all my mind can communicate to my mouth, which has suddenly become uncomfortably dry. _What…what is happening to me…?_ My legs become unfaithful to me and I collapse, my forehead grazing the counter top on my way down. Through blurred slits I make out Crowley bending over and pulling me to my feet, a supporting arm looped around my waist. I look up at him, knitting my eyebrows together. “You…didn’t…” I slur, my voice then failing me as well.

“You’re okay,” he mutters soothingly, smoothing my hair back from my damp—is that sweat or blood?—forehead. “You’re okay.”

The darkness swallows me.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ruby wakes up handcuffed in Bobby Singer's basement, where some terrible news is revealed to her. She and Crowley escape and decide the best thing to do now is to disappear.

When I was a little girl, my mother would serve me sleeping pills a few nights a week so she could have “me time” with my father. I would usually sleep from anywhere between 12 and 16 hours, barely conscious enough to think for myself. After about a year of this, however, my body started to become used to these pills and it was harder and harder to fall asleep. As a child is, I was overly curious, as soon as I understood why with the pills, as to what my parents got up to while I slept. One night, I feigned sleep and snuck down the hallway a good while later, keeping up the pretense. My childish mind could not understand why daddy was restraining mommy with handcuffs, scratching and abusing her naked body. Why mommy was smiling and kissing daddy in turn, or better yet, why she was allowing him to do such things to her.

I ran back to my room and cried for the rest of the night. What was wrong with my parents? What they’re doing can’t be right. What if they end up getting hurt?

All these years later and oh, how the tables have turned. What is wrong with me? What I’m doing can’t be right. What if someone ends up getting hurt?

At least now I know where the idea came from that night with Crowley. Sick, twisted Ruby.

And now my head feels the weight of bricks pressing all around it, not allowing me to lift it. My attempt at movement is halted when the cold metal of handcuffs cut into my wrists, painfully pulling be backwards, my back hitting a wooden post. I groan in protest, though the guttural sound that leaves my throat is unidentifiable. _What is happening? Where am I?_

“You awake yet, sweetheart?” a distinct southern accent snaps. I moan, the sudden noise shooting a new wave of pain through my head. Movement. Shuffled footsteps. Snapping in my face. I moan again. “Ruby! You with us?”

“Stop…screaming…at me…” I breathe out. The man laughs, annoyingly loud. “Crow…Crowley?” Even my vocal cords feel like they’ve been dragged to the ends of the Earth.

“Aw, who’s someone’s little whore?” he asks sarcastically, purposely in my ear. I flinch away from him. “Sorry, sweetheart, your man-toy isn’t here right now. Got him locked up in another room. We thought your eye sex might be distracting from the task at hand.”

“Wha…?” I force out. I attempt to lift my head once more, flinching and reeling from the pain, but I succeed. The world is crooked and blurry and it takes several moments for it to start to clear up. The face I eventually see startles me, my wrists picking a fight with the handcuffs again. “Bobby? What…the fuck…?”

“There she is!” he murmurs, bring a cup of water to my lips. I drink thirstily, silently complaining when the last drop runs down my throat. “I can get you more in a minute.”

“Bobby?” I clear my throat, my voice slowly coming back to me. “What’s going on? How did I get here? Why am I in handcuffs?” I frown at him, pleading him with my eyes for answers.

“Well, Crowley did the drugging for me, I just collected.” Bobby hurries on when I start to panic, “Oh, you don’t have to freak out, we’re not working together! If what he is telling me is true, then he drugged you for his own intents and purposes, some of which were to probably hide you from me, seeing this coming. I simply…intercepted you.”

“Where’s Crowley?” is all I can make out, too stunned for any other words.

He takes a deep breath, then takes both my shoulders in his hands and starts shaking me, my head reeling again. “You stupid ass! What did you do? _What did you do?!_ You made a deal…for Sam, didn’t you?” His concerned eyes try and dissect me.

“What are you—I don’t know what you’re talking about, Bobby.” I honestly don’t.

“Oh, c’mon, Ruby! Why else would you be hanging around with that devil Crowley?” He stands up suddenly, his knees popping rather loudly, and begins to pace around the room.

“Still don’t know what you’re talking about. I met Crowley at a bar. And you apparently know the rest. That is the extent of our relationship,” I reply, rather annoyed.

Bobby’s hands clench and unclench at his sides, then move up to straighten his hat, then back down again, obviously having struggles as to what to do with them. “But you knew that Sam was in trouble, tryin’ to get away. Crowley was his boss, Ruby, and you were on the inside to save his sorry ass from that devil, weren’t you? Tell me that’s what you were doing, Ruby!” He leans down and shakes me again. “Tell me you weren’t working for Crowley, that you—you were helping Sam.” Tears begin to build up in his old eyes.

I lean back so I can look him in the eye, shocked. “Bobby, what’s wrong, what’s happened?” I ask, softly.

Bobby only looks into my eyes, saying nothing, for several long minutes. Holding back a sob, he chokes out, “Sam’s dead, Ruby.”

My eyes seem to pop out of their sockets and drown, everything disappears. I can’t even bring myself to ask why, or what happened. I can’t even think. _What the hell does he mean, ‘dead’? Sam’s not dead. …Is he?_ I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out.

“That’s right. D-E-A-D. Dead. And my money’s on your _boyfriend_ in there, Crowley.” He makes an angry jab at the door behind him.

“W-why? Why would you say that?” Sobs hitch in my throat, refusing to let them pass.

“Apparently they had a falling out. You saw the first ball drop, but something major happened after that, like a week or two ago. Sam said that he dropped all the projects Crowley had him under and resigned, disregarding any and all contracts they had, intending on disappearing without Crowley, or anyone’s, knowledge or help. Well, except for my pretty face.” I half-heartedly scoff, tears beginning to drop from my eyes. “All I’m saying, sweetheart, is that this is how I see the facts: Sam is involved with Crowley, Sam leaves Crowley, Crowley kills Sam. It’s all like a very bad date.”

“Crowley,” I swallow and lick my lips, “Sam asked Crowley for help disappearing…Crowley declined his offer. How long—how long has he been dead, exactly?” I don’t even care anymore, I can barely speak, my sobs wracking my bruised body.

“About a week,” Bobby answers solemnly. All I can do is nod. “But yes, I do know that. What I need to know is what happened _after_ that!” he shouts loudly, frustrated.

“Look, Bobby, I don’t know, alright? That was the last time I saw either of them before tonight, when Crowley broke into my place and drugged me.” Bobby removes his hat and runs a hand through his thinning hair, then replaces his hat. He turns away towards the wall, refusing to look at me.

“Are you going to let me go, Bobby? Honestly I don’t even know why you’ve fucking got me like this, do you actually think I had something to do with killing Sam?!” I cry, trying to bite him. He pulls his face back in time, but I manage to drive my foot in the middle of his chest, knocking him flat on his back. Bobby clutches at his chest, wheezing, trying to get his breath back. “You let me go, Bobby. And Crowley, too, for that matter.”

“Crowley…killed…Sam, Ruby…I can’t...let him…go.”

“No he didn’t! Now let us both go or you’re not going to like me when I don’t have handcuffs restraining me,” I yell, my legs reaching for him again. My face is damp with my tears, causing my hair to stick around and frame my face, the taste of salt fresh on my tongue. “Why do you even need me? What the _fuck_ do I have to do with any of this?!”

Bobby looks at me with a look full of shock and sadness that could encompass any of many upon many different emotions, and I can’t tell which. After several long minutes he finally says, “Well considering what happened the last time a Winchester went missing, Ruby, you can’t blame me for wanting to keep you in my sights and get to the bottom of things. Specifically from your end. It wouldn’t surprise me in the slightest if you were Crowley’s aid in Sam’s murder.”

I stare at him, mouth agape. “Last time...? What the hell are you talking about Bobby, you’re still not making any sense!”

Bobby, suddenly fuming, points an angry finger in my face. “Don’t you _dare_ play dumb when it comes to John, you bitch.”

“What about John?” I snap. “Yes, he disappeared. And if you’re trying to connect it like it sounds like you are, then whoever was the cause of John’s disappearance probably killed Sam, but I still don’t see what I—“ The wooden post behind me cracks as Bobby punches my head into it, making me scream in pain. Black spots pool in multiple areas around my vision and my head refuses to come back up again. I groan in frustration. The pain now feels more like an inconvenience than actual pain. “The hell was that for…?”

“What do you think, princess? Do you really have the balls to go denying what happened with John?” Bobby yells.

“What happened with John?” I ask, truthfully.

Another punch. Another darkness.

***

“Will you stop that?” I mumble, completely devoid of animation. When I receive no response, I slowly bring my gaze upwards and search the room, but I am alone. Bobby is nowhere to be seen. And I’m still handcuffed to a pole. Lovely day. “Hello?” I call out as loud as I am able in this state. “Hello? Anyone there?”

I sigh and lean into the pole, defeated. Why did Bobby get so angry when John came into the conversation? Especially towards me. Obviously there is something that I should know concerning John, and the fact that I don’t is unbelievable and the cause of Bobby’s anger towards me, and more than likely the cause of my imprisonment. But why won’t he tell me? Why doesn’t he believe me when I tell him I honestly have no insight as to what happened with John? And if he did, he’d be the only one—Sam and Dean didn’t even know what happened to him, so why should I?

A door creaks open and footsteps sound down a flight of stairs. My heart races in anticipation. What am I to expect now that information has been exchanged concerning this information? Is he going to resume his anger and hitting, or will he let me go? Unfortunately, though, that thought seems unlikely. “Bobby?”

“Yes, it’s me sweetheart,” he replies, walking up to me with another cup of water. I down it similar to the last one. Bobby’s somber eyes look into mine. “You honestly don’t remember, do you?” I hesitantly shake my head, dreading his fist meeting my face again. He sighs. “It was a possibility. The nurse said that aside from the physical trauma, you did have major shock, and the likelihood of your mind blocking out what happened was very high. I didn’t think it’d be permanent.”

“Nurse? What are you talking about Bobby? What aren’t you telling me?”

“Don’t you remember when you were in the hospital last year?”

“Yeah, of course, Bobby. You were there, I had mono.” He stares at me and I laugh, saying, “It was pretty bad, remember? Had all the IVs and everything.”

“You didn’t have mono,” he states, my smile fading. “The three of us—you, me and John—were following up on some leads and we ran into trouble. You took a pretty nasty beating, and then you and John got into an argument, I didn’t hear any of it.” Bobby’s voice cracks, but he continues. “I walked in the room just in time to watch you put a gun to his head and pull the trigger.”

“How…?”

“You started screaming, crying ‘I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry’ over and over again, and eventually you just collapsed. Brought you to the hospital and when you woke up you were fine, not remembering any of it. The nurse said it wouldn’t last long, but apparently it has,” he laughs sadly.

“I…killed John Winchester.” Bobby nods. “But everyone just thought he disappeared! What did you do, Bobby?”

“Got someone to take care of the body, make it look like a disappearance,” he says, devoid of emotion.

“I killed John Winchester,” I repeat, heartbroken, sobs regaining control over my body. “And now you think I killed Sam the same way I killed him?! What kind of a sick, twisted bastard are you, Bobby?” He opens his mouth to respond, but I cut him off. “Get out! Get out, Bobby! Go!” I scream at him, repeatedly, until the door closes behind him. Then I scream and scream and scream until my voice goes hoarse and they turn into strange whimpers, my tears soaking my shirt. I scream until my vision gets muddy and darkness claims me again, though this time I succumb to it.

***

When the pounding in my head wakes me up, I find myself lying on the floor next to the pole, but without any restraints. I would smile if I had the heart, but apparently I don’t have one and my face won’t let me. Slowly, I stagger to my feet, using the pole as a crutch. Once I believe I have my bearings figured out I push away from the pole and cross the distance to the stairs, then follow them up. The door is unlocked. Either Bobby trusted me to stay put or he wants me to leave. But I’m not leaving without Crowley, if Bobby was truthful about his being here. With as much silence as I can pull with me, I close the door behind me and make my way into the main hall, where I take a chance and claim a second set of stairs to the second floor. There’s a hallway containing three doors on each side, an alcove under a window at the end. Contrary to my brain that’s shouting at me to just get out while I can, I slightly open the first door on my right, peering inside. It’s empty. I move onto the next room and the next, each of them empty. _Naturally. It’s always the last one._ I take a deep breath and cross my fingers, opening the last door at the end of the hallway. Sure enough, there is an unconscious Crowley, tied to a chair in the middle of the room.

“Oh my god, Crowley!” I whisper, running and kneeling in front of him. I take his swollen face in my hands and rub it gently, murmuring, “Crowley, it’s okay, it’s me, Ruby. Wake up, it’s okay, I’m here.”

He moans softly and his eyes flit open. He jerks away from my hands at first, but relaxes when his eyes process my presence. “Ruby…” he says softly. Good god, he looks terrible. It seems as though he took a more substantial beating from Bobby. His lip is split thick, he’s got a black eye, and everywhere just seems angrily swollen.

“Shhh, it’s okay. I’m going to untie you and then we are getting out of here.” I offer him a smile, but neither of us can really read it. I locate the knot in the back and release it, then help the rope unravel to the floor. I lift up his arm and sling it across my shoulders, taking a deep breath. “Okay, Crowley. I can’t carry you by myself, you’ve got to help some, alright? On three. One…two…three!” My legs strain and I grunt as I adjust to helping him carry his weight. Slowly we make our way down the hallway and miraculously make it down the stairs without toppling over each other. Once outside, my rescue backfires. We have nowhere to go—we’re in the middle of freaking nowhere without transportation. At night. _Maybe that’s why Bobby’s seemingly disappeared._ “Fuck!” I mutter.

Crowley flinches as he reaches into his suit pocket and pulls out a phone, probably thinking the same thing I am. I give him a quick kiss. “Beautiful!” Without a second thought, I dial Meg’s number. She picks up on the third ring.

_Meg: Hello this is Meg._

_Me: Meg! Good you picked up. It’s Ruby._

_Meg: Ruby? Who’s phone are you calling from?_

_Me: Doesn’t matter. What matters is that me and…I am stranded, basically in the middle of nowhere. Please, don’t ask any questions, can you just come and get me?_

_A pause._

_Meg: Of course, Ruby. Where are you?_

_Me: Hopefully, by the time you get here, I will be about a mile, give or take, um…south. South of Bobby’s. Do you remember where he lives?_

_Meg: Vaguely. But I still got his address around here somewhere…I’ll be there as soon as I can._

_Me: Thanks Meg, you’re a life saver. I love you so, so much._

_Meg: Anytime_.

“Crowley?” I ask, slipping his phone in my pocket. I struggle to stay standing, supporting him, as he begins to fade into unconsciousness again. “Hey, honey, open your eyes, you got to stay awake for a little while longer. We have to keep moving.” He gives me a slight nod, his eyes still half shut.

Walking down the road away from Bobby’s proves loads harder than it sounded in my head. I’m just glad that it’s night; it is cool and breezy. It feels amazing, though both Crowley and me are coated in sweat and breathing heavily. I don’t know how long or how far we’ve been walking, but it hurts. Everything hurts. Then, after what feels like hours, headlights finally appear a close distance off, growing and growing until Meg’s car pulls over to the side of the road and comes to a stop in front of us. She quickly runs out, slamming her door. Her eyes grow too big for her little face and start to tear up. She only nods in understanding, grabbing Crowley’s other arm and helps with putting him in the backseat. Once the door is closed, he slumps against it, passing out. I turn to Meg and pull her to me, hugging her hard.

“Thank you,” I whisper. Again, she only nods, giving Crowley a wary glance before getting in the driver’s side and starting the car. I walk around to the other back door and slide in next to Crowley, hugging myself to him and resting my head on his shoulder. I sigh through the pain, grateful for safety. I let the world fade around me and my eyelids drop, shortly joining Crowley in the relief of sleep.

I start when a hand rubs my shoulder, gently shaking me awake. “We’re here, Ruby,” drones a honey-dipped voice.

“Where?” My brain is still foggy from sleep.

“At your apartment,” Meg responds. “C’mon. Let’s get him upstairs.” I look over at her and hold her gaze for several moments while my mind processes what she’s said. Gently I unwrap myself from Crowley, my arms groaning in stiff protest. Meg is already on the other side of the car. I pull Crowley away from the door and keep a hold on him so he doesn’t fall out of his seat. She leans down and again, loops his other arm across her shoulders, pulling him out and onto his feet. I follow behind shortly, taking his other arm.

After much strain and even more sweat, we finally finish the climb to my apartment and trudge inside. Meg aims to drop him onto the couch, but I stop her and whisper, “No, I want to put him in a bed.” She says nothing and continues walking past the couch and into my bedroom, where she half-heartedly drops her half of him onto my bed. I glare at her momentarily before I turn my full attention to getting Crowley comfortably adjusted onto the bed. He moans softly before shivering in his sleep, his face contorted in pain. I look at him sadly, tears welling in my eyes, and give him a sweet kiss on his brow before retreating from my room and closing the door gently behind me.

Meg has her arms crossed and his leaning against the kitchen counter when I emerge, her face set in worry. “You want to tell me what the fuck happened, Ruby? You’ve been gone for days!” she asks, though without a hint of anger. _‘Days’? How long is ‘days’?_

When I answer my voice seems unrecognisable, all rough and guttural. “Bobby happened. He thought that Crowley killed Sam,” I state evenly, surprisingly without a pang of sadness ringing in my broken voice. “And he thought that I helped. He took both of us, and obviously he gave us both good beatings…hey, are you alright?” I barely catch Meg before she falls to the floor. Her breath hitches in her throat and she looks at me with pained eyes.

“Are you saying Sam is dead?” she asks, incredulous.

 _Shit. Well that’s one way to break it to someone._ “Yes,” I reply hesitantly. “About a week ago. But don’t ask me what happened, because I have no fucking clue.”

She blows out a sigh and stares at a spot on the wall while I hold her. “I just…Wow. I don’t—I don’t understand. Why would Bobby think you had anything to do with it?”

That’s the sentence that stops me in my tracks. What do I tell her? That because I was the one who killed John Winchester, then I was the one who killed Sam? “I don’t know,” is the only obvious response.

Meg pulls back to look me in the eye and says simply, “Bullshit. You know something…don’t you?”

Shakily I exhale. “It-it doesn’t matter. I swear to you that I had nothing to do with Sam’s death. All I know is that Crowley and I—we have to leave. We _are_ leaving. At least until this all blows over.” Instinctively I make a move to retrieve a beer from my fridge, but unfortunately remember that they were all gone. I settle back next to Meg heavily.

“Ruby, no! You can’t leave, what are you talking about?”

“Just until this all blows over, ok? Who’s to say that Bobby won’t want us back again? He’s dead adamant of persecuting one of us, and I’d prefer if that _didn’t_ happen,” my voice only seems to get coarser.

“Ruby…” It’s silent for a few minutes. Meg breaks it, reluctantly saying, “…How can I help?”

I look at her, shocked. _She’s offering to help me?_ I won’t try and understand. I love her to death—she’s my best friend—but there is nothing she can help me with. “You can’t. The only thing you can do is not tell anyone about this, or where I’m going. Not even Castiel,” I add firmly. I stroke her hair, tears now causing it to stick to her face. “It’s going to be alright, Meg. I’ll call you.”

“Right.” She nods, her tears raining onto her pant legs. She stands up and I follow her to the door, pulling her into a tight hug. “I told you he was bad,” Meg softly repeats, again, in my ear. Then she is gone.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ruby takes the combined news of Sam and John's deaths hard, unable to pull herself together, and Crowley is the only one who can help her.

Crowley moans painfully next to me. I suppress a groan as I pry my eyes open and roll over to face him, readying myself to take care of him. His face contorts in a grimace, his eyes furiously running underneath his eyelids. I prop myself up on my elbows and stoke his face, softly humming to him for several minutes. When he shows no other response I push myself off the bed and make my way to my freezer, where I grab and ice pack. I wrap it in a dish rag and bring it back to the room, where I place myself on the edge of the bed next to Crowley, putting the pack on his heated forehead. “Crowley…are you with me?” I murmur against his ear. He stirs, and his amber eyes finally fluttering open, blinking to try to clear his vision. “Crowley?”

He moans again and says something along the lines of ‘hello darling.’ I think. I want. I hope. I wish. “You awake? Do you need me to get you anything?” I ask anxiously, smoothing back his thin mess of hair.

Crowley shakes his head and clears his throat several times before replying, “No, love, that’s alright.” He musters a smile, but retracts it shortly, grimacing. “Actually, Ruby, a water would be nice.”

I nod eagerly. “Yes, of course. My king,” I add, kissing him gently on his forehead. Without any hesitation I hurry into the kitchen and get him a glass of water, bringing it back to him. He takes it and drinks it desperately, sighing pleasurably once the last drop leaves the glass. I remove it from his fingers, set it on the bedside table and can’t help but laugh.

“What’s so amusing my queen?” Crowley asks, a smile playing at his swollen lips as well.

“Nothing, this just seems kind of…I don’t know, cliché? Me playing a housewife nursing you back to health.” I laugh again.

He reaches up and strokes my cheek. “Oh, you don’t need to worry about me, love. I don’t need taking care of. A few more hours of sleep and I will be as good as new.” He offers me a smile.

I frown at him. “Your swollen face begs to differ.” Crowley places his hand over mine and persists on trying to give me a lasting smile. Not able to resist my urges any longer, I bend over and gently caress his lips with mine, being careful not to apply any pressure. “Let me take care of you, my king,” I murmur against his lips, “even the king of hell needs someone to take care of him.” Crowley takes a handful of my hair and presses our mouths together, tasting me hungrily. I can feel his face flinch from the pressure of mine against him, his bruises protesting. I pull away, breathing hard, and Crowley sighs. “Get those few hours of sleep, Crowley. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

He nods, reluctantly, and I lay him back down. He’s unconscious again even before his face hits the pillow. Too quick for guilt to override my senses, I throw on presentable clothes, grab my keys and make my way downstairs to my car. I carefully speed down the street to the liquor store, where I pick up a few 6-pack bottles. Something tugs at my gut while I’m standing in line that almost makes me return my alcohol to the shelves and retreat, but I bury all those thoughts nearly expertly. I thank the cashier and take my beers back to my car, where I greedily pull one out, accidently cutting my hand on the bottle cap. The pain and blood seem insignificant once I bring the bottle to my lips and the brittle liquid runs down my throat.

Before I even know what’s happening, a damn breaks in my head somewhere and tears start freefalling down my face and for some reason I let them, let them rule and take over my body. I don’t know how long I sit there like that, but eventually I pull myself together, the possibility of Crowley waking up soon pressing. Once I pull into my garage and make my way back up to my apartment, I take a minute outside my door to finish pulling myself together. As satisfied as I’m ever going to be, I take a deep breath and step into my apartment, going straight to the fridge to dispose of my beer. Before I can decide against it, I yank out another beer and down half of it right there on the spot.

“Did you check that for drugs before inhaling it like that?” I jump and barely catch my beer before it shatters all over the tile.

“God damn it, Crowley!” I shout. “That is _not_ funny. Not only did you violate my privacy, you ruined a perfectly good fucking beer.”

A hint of a smile flits across his face. “Well, to each his own and all that.”

I sigh, opting to put that behind us. “I would offer you a beer, but…I don’t have any Craig. I’m not as fancy as you,” I can’t help but reply seductively. Crowley allows a complete smile, closing the distance between us and pulling me to him before I can protest. “You should be resting.”

“I feel perfectly fine, my queen. Like I said, I just needed my few hours of sleep. My face is still throbbing a bit, but it’s nothing I can’t handle,” he whispers against my lips.

“He called you the devil, you know.”

Crowley smirks and thinks for a moment. “I’m not the devil!” he kisses me hard. “I’m just some angry, used-car salesman trying to run hell.” His hands flit under my shirt and trail up my back. “In a very good suit,” he adds kissing me again, deeper and longer and making my head spin. I let him turn me around and back me up in the direction of my room, our lips still locked together. He gingerly lays me down on my bed and I groan, the relaxed, sluggish movements killing me. My body aches hopelessly and I can’t stand how gentle he’s being, how soft his hands are as they guide my shirt over my head and caress my back, arching me against him.

I groan again and push Crowley off me, panting, receiving a confused and slightly irritated look from him. I look up at him and silently grab both of his hands, bringing them to my neck and pulling him on top of me. My breath painfully slows and my chest begins to feel afire, but I don’t struggle beneath him, don’t try to breathe. I reject my lungs the luxury of air and succumb to the weight of Crowley’s hands restricting my neck. Black spots begin to form around the edges of my vision and I let my eyes roll back into my head when suddenly a gust of air fills my mouth, aiming to revitalise my lungs. I gulp it down instinctively, wheezing in more and more until they are satisfied and my breathing returns to normal. I mewl at Crowley with longing, needing him to do _something_ to me, needing to feel some sort of pain, damage inflicted by his strong hands.

I need to be punished.

I _should_ be punished.

“You alright, love?” Crowley asks, cocking his head, looking at me worriedly.

“I fine. Just—just touch me, Crowley, touch me. Please, sir,” I practically whine, my body trembling, though not from arousal. “Punish me, sir,” I breathe out. Crowley only stares at me, uncertain as to what his next actions should be. His arms twitch as he decides whether to reach out to me or not. “You bastard! What are you waiting for—I’m right here, all laid out before you to do whatever you want with.” He doesn’t respond. “Fuck, Crowley, what’s the problem?” I slap his bruised face with all the force I can muster, causing him to stagger backwards. He massages his face and doesn’t turn back towards me. I hit his chest, then again and again and again, fighting off his grip on my wrists as they try and stop me. After several minutes of this wrestle he finally overpowers me, forcefully keeping my arms stationary across my chest, holding me firmly against him, my back to him. Regardless of this I still struggle against him, screaming and attempting to kick my way out of his grip, but to no avail; he’s too strong. Crowley backs up against the wall and slides down, bringing me with him to the ground, and continues to hold me in my place. I kick at the air a few more times, breathless, before my strength leaves me and I crumple into his arms, completely defeated. My hair sticking to my wet face suddenly reveals to me that I am crying, but I make no effort to try and build that dam back up.

“Shhh. I’m going to turn you around now, love…” Crowley says soothingly in my ear. He loosens his grip around me hesitantly, and I let him maneuver my body so that I am facing him, my head settling on his chest. He smooths my hair back from my face and strokes it, whispering comforting words repeatedly in my ear while I sob, entirely letting my body go. I cling to him, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt and holding on for dear life, almost as if if I let go, then I will be blown away from him, never to return. I cry until my voices run out, and then I cry some more. I cry until my head threatens to explode and my ducts are devoid of any liquid.

I cry until I am no more.

***

My neck is stiff and I’m nearly unable to move it to take in my surroundings. I am curled up in a heap on my bed, my clock indicating that it is early afternoon. My eyes feel like death and are no doubt like swollen grape tomatoes just sitting on my face. I whimper, throwing my legs over the side of the bed and drop my head into my hands. Why am I letting this get to me? _Why am I letting this get to me?_

I don’t know, Ruby. Maybe it’s because you killed a man? Because you shot John Winchester in the head without showing any mercy?

Because you are a murderer.

I need to leave. I need to get out. I want Crowley to take me away from here, erase everything else in my life until only he is left.

But would he, though? I fucked up last night, totally freaked out on him. If/when he finds out what I’ve done, would he still want me? Does he even want me? I’m just his whore. I’m just _a_ whore.

“Crowley?” I choke out, interring my inner monologue. I push myself out of bed and stumble out into the kitchen. “Crowley?” I repeat hoarsely.

Empty. The room is empty. Crowley is gone, and my heart hurts. A tear rolls down my cheek and I watch it drop and pool on the ground. I shortly follow it, bringing my knees to my chest and burying my head inside them. Only seconds later, however, I shoot up and run to the fridge, where I yank out a beer. I don’t even get it half way to my mouth before Crowley practically rips it out of my fingers and envelops me in his arms, tightening them when I try and shrink away. “I’m not going anywhere, love, so don’t you,” he mutters, kissing my forehead.

 _What? Oh dear lord I do not deserve this man._ I try to leave again, but he restrains me, though not in a violent way. I’ve never seen someone act with so much… _love_ before. “I killed a man,” I blurt out before I can stop myself. Well I guess now we see whether he’ll recant his last statement or not. If this doesn’t throw him off my bandwagon, I’m not sure what will. Some part of me wishes, though, that it will. If I don’t deserve him, then he most certainly deserves someone worlds better than me.

The silence is killing me. “Fucking say something you cryptic bastard.”

He kisses my forehead again, takes a deep breath and breathes out, “So did I.”

“You killed Sam Winchester, didn’t you.” I don’t phrase it like a question. My heart is pounding so hard I fear it might break through its cavity.

“Inadvertently, yes.” _So Bobby was right._ God save me, but I can’t find it in me to care at the moment.

“I killed John Winchester.” Crowley stiffens and pulls back, keeping hold on my shoulders. I cannot read the expression on his face. “I shot him right in the middle of his goddamn forehead with a 9mm without hesitating. But don’t ask me why, because my fucking brain won’t let me remember.” Crowley surprises me by pulling me back to him, giving me a warm squeeze. Slowly, hesitantly, I allow myself to bring up my arms and return the favour.

“What do you need, Ruby,” he asks simply, searching my eyes.

I don’t hesitate. “I want you to take me away. I want to leave and forget everything and be safe with you,” I rush out, my cheeks flushing from sudden embarrassment.

A pause. An embrace. “Anything, Ruby. Just tell me what and I’ll do it.” _Fuck. Why him. Why me._

“Get me out of this fucking apartment, for starters.”

I can feel his laugh rumble in his chest. “Then start packing,” he orders.

“How do you mean ‘packing’?” I look at him skeptically.

“You want to leave, right darling? Pack your stuff and I’ll take you home.”

“Are…are you asking me to move in with you?” I ask, incredulous. _This isn’t exactly a slow-moving relationship, now is it? Are we going to live to regret staying together sometime soon? I really should just leave—me, myself and I. Alone._

Crowley shrugs his shoulders. “If that’s how you want to put it. C’mon, I’ll help.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ruby is still broken over recent events, but finds new solace and love with Crowley, with aims to move on with her life.

It took me several days and multiple bottles of scotch to finally ease the anxiety and paranoia in the pit of my stomach. I have refused to relieve my suitcases of their contents, expecting this to be heartbreakingly temporary, being the pessimist that I am. Crowley has been respective of my need for some space ever since I moved in, to adjust and move on from recent unfortunate events. Though honestly that only added to my depressive state, not being able to be touched by him. All day, all night my body aches for that man. It’s a desperate, deprived ache that drives me insane. But at the same time that part of me is also scared to initiate for some reason, fearing that drive has left him, also concerning recent unfortunate events.

It’s evening on the sixth day, and I have decided.

I set the bottle of scotch on the bedside table and sneak my way down the stairs and into the doorway to Crowley’s office. He looks up once he hears me enter and says, “Nice to see you out of the room, love. Can I do something for you?” He finishes the last drops of Craig in his cup and maintains eye contact, waiting for an answer.

Suddenly I have no idea what the hell to say, so I walk over to him and let my lips speak my unspoken thoughts onto his. After a few moments of hesitation he sinks into the kiss and pulls me down onto his lap, grabbing a fistful of my hair and the small of my back. “I’m sorry I’ve been so distant,” I say breathlessly, “I’ve felt so fucked up ever since we left Bobby’s and then I thought that you wouldn’t…wouldn’t—“

“Want you anymore?” he finishes my thoughts. I nod. “Bullocks, darling. That is never going to happen.” I smile sheepishly. “Let’s put those rubbish thoughts to rest, shall we?” he asks seductively, standing up and grabbing my hand, leading me up the stairs to the bedroom. I can’t help but smile when I hear the all-to familiar sound of the bedroom door clicking closed and Crowley closing the distance between us, melting me with his amber eyes. Silently he reaches out and slides my shirt over my head and dropping it to the floor, then helping my shorts join it shortly. While we were at this string of actions, I unbuttoned his shirt and his clothes soon joined mine. We stand there and just stare at each other, nearly naked, as if we have never done this before.

Crowley moves first, stroking a finger down my face whispering, “I can’t bring myself to attempt an attack on your beauty tonight, love, it doesn’t feel right.”

I cup his hand with mine and sigh into the touch. “As long as you keep touching me, I will be content tonight, my king.”

He shoots me a sweet smile and I admire the way it looks on his face. He should do it more often. “I can do that…” he trails off as he pulls my body against his, pressing our forms together, fitting perfectly. Our kisses are slow and passionate, causing the blood to rush to my face and my breaths to be heavy and hot. Sometime during this he backs me up against the bed and I willingly crawl on top of it, laying on my back and offering all of myself to him. Crowley looks at me longingly as he strips down his boxers, freeing his already hardening cock. His hands trace trails up my legs, making my body to quiver, and finger the waistband on my underwear, a silent request. I lift my hips up off the bed and give him the silent permission to strip it off my body. I lie there, resplendent and unashamed in my nakedness. With gentle preciseness he crawls over me and doesn’t even hesitate with slipping inside me, a silent cry escaping my lips. We grind against each other with a steady, slow rhythm, our faces making their own love against one another. My hands travel around all the terrain of his body, mapping every hill and valley, feeling his body quake under my touch. He gives me one last passionate kiss before trailing to my neck and diving in deeper, increasing the speed and strength of his thrusts. I lift my legs up and lock them around his back, giving him more access. My nails dig into and scratch across his shoulders as I near my peak, my other senses all but disappearing out the window.

“Faster,” I breathe out in short rasps. Crowley complies and the sound of our laboured breaths and groans fill the room around us as we move in a frenzy against the other. The orgasm shoots through me like lightening, overriding anything and everything that may have been there before, my screams ringing throughout the room and crashing through the walls. “Fuck, Crowley…” I cry out, though barely audible. “I—I can’t, Crowley, unh…fuck!”

Crowley grips the headboard as he, too, howls into the night and continues grinding into me. “Oh, my king…” I whisper in his ear, pulling him closer against me, basking in the pleasure still reverberating throughout my body. Without me even needing to ask, he bends his head down and kisses me, slow and sweet, his fingers rolling through my hair and pulling my face harder against his. 

He slips out, and I whimper at the empty feeling it gives. My body trembles and throbs with longing for him to fill me again, but it receives nothing. “Crowley…” my voice is a small rasp, barely intelligible.

“Yes, my queen?” he exhales, fingers splayed across my stomach.

“Come back to me…” I grope for him, needing the warmth of his body over mine.

Crowley leans forward and adjusts the weight of his body above mine again, replying, “One condition, Ruby.”

“Anything.”

“Don’t you ever leave me.”

A pause. “I won’t.” And just a bit of a promise seems to find its way into my words. For a brief moment, Crowley seems to acknowledge every emotion I tried to convey with those two simple syllables. His eyes light up and hang over me like two lanterns in the midnight sky, shedding light on the happiness and love in the world around us. I pull him to me again, not too concerned with the strength in my kiss, which he returns with such life the sun could not extinguish it. He pushes his length into me again, and rides me to my climax a second time, my body pulsating around his. My brain is too laden with chemicals to send anything from my mouth other than my screams. I wish I could live within this moment, relive it over and over and over again; his kisses, his touch, his fire, his pleasure. His everything. Him. Crowley. My lover.

My king.

***

“Sweet Mary mother of fuck, that’s good,” I exclaim, downing the last bit of spiked coffee Crowley has made for me.

He laughs. “I think you broke a commandment somewhere in there, love.”

I stare at him, awestruck. “This tastes like God, Crowley; where the fuck did you learn to make this?”

He pries the empty mug from my hands and turns to set it in the sink. “You’re still breaking some commandments there, Ruby. You might be in for some trouble,” he says, giving me a quick kiss.

I grab him by his collar, stopping him from pulling away. “What kind of trouble? Don’t you go to hell for breaking commandments?”

He mocks deliberation. “In most cases, yes. I would assume as such.”

I pull him closer to me, our noses grazing the other. “Good thing I’m on good terms with the King of Hell, then, huh?” I breathe against his lips. Crowley smiles and jerks in my direction for a kiss, but I lean back and deny him. He moans playfully and tries again, but I deny him a second time. I slowly back off the stool I’m sitting on and continue denying his advances until I accidently back into a wall. I smile seductively at him as he places his hands on either side of me on the wall. This time when he leans in for another kiss I duck out of his arms and run down the hallway into the entry hall. A few seconds later he nonchalantly emerges from where I just did. I laugh and mock a bow and a tip of the hat. “Sir,” I nod at him.

"Never underestimate the King of Hell, darling. I know a lot of swell tricks,” he snickers.

“Then quit talking and come show me,” I purr. Though before he’s able to move a leg I begin to make a break for the stairs, which I climb furiously once his steps sound behind mine. I barely reach the landing when his arms grab me from behind. I fight to get him to release me, but this only seems to come off as a nuisance to Crowley, who proceeds to slam me into the closest wall and pin my hands behind my back as if I were under arrest. I painfully grunt as he strains my arms more against their grain. “What, am I under arrest?”

“You may as well be,” he answers gutturally in my ear. “You’re mine now.”

“You got any handcuffs?” I ask innocently.

He sighs. “Bullocks. I left them in my car. Better not resist, then, love.” I laugh as he spins me around, which is cut off by a pressure-filled kiss that sends my head reeling. He ends it too soon and grabs me by the neck, throwing my head back into the wall. My vision blackens and I can hardly support myself as we move into the bedroom. Crowley releases his chokehold on me and I tumble onto my knees, panting. I feint surrender, so I catch him by surprise when I backhand him against the door.

“What’s the charge for assaulting a figure of authority?” I ask, slapping him back down again. He chuckles and I swing my knee in the direction of his chest, but he deflects it, sending me falling backwards on my ass. The wind knocked out of me, I wheeze and try to push Crowley off as he crawls on top of me and presses our faces together, suffocating me further. I wriggle my hand up through the mold of our bodies and grip his face, jerking it harshly away from me. My lounges cry as I hopelessly grope for air, struggling to regain my breath. Crowley’s low laughter rumbles through my chest as he repositions himself over me and shoots me a sly smile. I return it shakily and finally gulp down satisfying amounts of air before pulling him back to me. His hands begin to roam over the hills and valleys of my body and I shudder under the heat of his touch. I begin the motion of sitting up, which he follows, but I stop him once he tries to follow me onto the bed. Crowley looks at me, trying to mask his desperation.

“Get on your knees,” I order. He complies, not breaking eye contact. “Bow to your queen, sir, and I will crown your head.” Reluctantly breaking eye contact, he complies again and bows his head.

“At your service, my queen,” he whispers, jaw clenching.

I thread my fingers through his hair and bend down to kiss his forehead. “I can make you every inch a king,” I murmur in his ear, a repeat from our first night together. A shiver of anticipation ripples down his body through his effort to stay still and bowed. I tilt his chin towards me with my index finger in order to meet his amber eyes again. “Before I do it, though, tell me—what’s in it for me?”

“Everything,” Crowley breathes out. “Everything.” It’s my turn to shiver in anticipation, which he feels and quickly jumps to his feet and gives my shoulders a shove down into the bed. Before I even know what’s happening both mine and his clothes are stripped and discarded around the circumference of the bed, my legs getting mauled in the process. I practically pull Crowley up to me by his hair, longing to taste him, his lips. The kiss is deafening, sending my head reeling straight out the room, frantically wanting more of him. I groan as my arousal is denied me and Crowley roughly takes my wrists and pins them over my head. My back arches and my body reaches up to touch him, needing more than anything to feel him, to melt and mold until I can’t differentiate between who is who. But he denies my needs over and over again and I nearly scream in frustration as Crowley just hovers over me, restraining me, torturing me.

“Damn it, Crowley! What the fuck,” I grunt, attempting touch again, but his restraint only deepens, probably bruising my wrists. Crowley smiles down at my scrunched face and I try to tell him with my eyes, but he discards anything I throw at him.

“Someone is a little impatient tonight,” he purrs in my ear, refusing to let up.

“And you aren’t?” I choke out, “Not five minutes ago you were desperately, _impatiently_ ripping my clothes off—” I scream as he trusts into me with such force I feel like I might split in two. His body grinds against mine in perfect rhythm, digging deeper and faster, our hot breaths twisting in the air between us. I continue to fight against his grip, the need to have my hands roam around his body killing me, eating away at every inch of my pride. Though Crowley seems to only up everything he’s doing to the next level. Our lips are barely able to stay connected through our heavy breaths, each thrust getting me closer and closer to my peak, each thrust causing Crowley to tighten the grip he has on my wrists. I find it easier to keep up with his speed this time around and would smile if I wasn’t working so hard to maintain my composure through my efforts to forget about my hands and only worry about everything else. But then about nothing at all as I grow closer and closer and suddenly he’s unable to deny me anymore as my body succumbs to him and his name is leaving my lips through rasp screams.

Crowley finally, finally releases his hold on my wrists and immediately I reach out and pull myself to him, wrapping my arms around his shoulders as we continue to ride through each other’s orgasms. I whimper when I unfortunately come down and Crowley somewhat relaxes against me, the only sound in the room our rapid and heavy breaths. “C-Crowley, my god—you,” I stutter, my brain unable to form any comprehensible sentences. My mind is in the clouds, my body is in a hot, slick paradise and I am underneath an impossible man who keeps making my head spin. His hands begin moving in circles down my arms, my torso, my thighs, making me wince from the aftereffects of the beating I took earlier. Each tinge of pain is a reminder that there would be marks all over my body in the morning, but I don’t mind. Because it means that tonight, in this moment, and hopefully for all the moments after, I was his.

“Are you still with me, love?” Crowley’s accent is slurred, laced with sober pleasure as he plants kisses along my jawline and down my neck. His hand makes its way back up my body and reaches behind my neck, tilting it to create more of a canvas for his lips. Crowley’s other hand snakes around my waist and presses my body firmly up against him, as if it’s still not enough, as if there’s too little of me to satisfy him.

“Of course,” I sigh pleasurably, still unable to respond normally. I sink into his touches and close my eyes, trying to print stills of the pictures I’m seeing into my mind, so I can relish in them later. So I never have to let go of this moment. “It’s not enough,” I mumble, mostly to myself.

Crowley groans. “Good god, I know, Ruby. I know,” his voice takes on a new tone of urgent desire. “Tell me we’re not finished here, love.” His grips become tighter, the pressure of his lips on my skin bruising.

“Never,” I grunt as I roll us over so I’m on top, straddling his hips. I bring our mouths together for one last heated kiss before making a trail down his neck, chest, stomach, his body trembling out of control. Without so much as a breath of hesitation I lick a stripe down his length to his head, where I begin to take in as much as I can. My hands latch onto his waist for support as my head starts bobbing up and down, back and forth, sucking my king senseless. Crowley’s hips arch off the bed and he aids in fucking my mouth, grabbing a fistful of my hair and pulling me closer to him, his dick hitting the back of my throat. His moans and insistent mutterings of my name arouse me even further and sending new bouts of desire and adrenaline throughout my being. I pay close attention to his body and moans, aiming to time it just right so as not to push him past his peak. I rake my nails down his torso, turning his moans painful and his grip on my shoulders to tighten. His muscles clench and unclench beneath and all around me and he’s so close—

“Fuck, Ruby!” Crowley screams in frustration when I detach myself from him, sending him a sly smile. I place my hand over his chest, feeling it rapidly rise and fall and the incessant racing of his denied heart. He growls, digging his nails further into my shoulder with the one hand, the other shooting up about to clench around my throat. I laugh. “What the fuck are you playing at, my queen,” he heaves out.

“I’m sorry,” I exclaim innocently, “where was I?”

“I believe you were in the middle of sucking my brains out through my cock,” he says gutturally, his jaw clenched almost painfully.

“Oh, yes. But you see, my king, I have other plans.” I smirk as I bring myself back up and straddle him again. Crowley, still having too much trouble getting his breathing and body shudders under control, cocks an annoyed eyebrow at me. He grunts when I press down on his chest, using it as support as I position myself so he’s lined up with my hole. We both cry out in painful relief as I ease down and he enters into me. I lean down and breathe in his ear, “I want you to cum _inside_ of me, to let go and lose yourself inside of _me_.” I grind, hard, against him, his fingers taking their turn in clawing down my person. “I am going to fuck you, over and over again until you forget your own name.” Crowley’s eyes loll into the back of his head and he moans loudly, his back arching straight off the bed. I splay my hands across his chest, pinning him back down and groan in grand bliss when soon after I feel my release, and another orgasm quakes through my body. Not moments later, finally, Crowley roars and lets himself go inside me, and he desperately reaches out to grab a hold of me as he succumbs to his own orgasm.

“Good…god…Ruby…” Crowley is nearly unable to get anything else out, he’s breathing so hard. I’m incapable of responding also as I collapse over him, my head coming to rest on his heaving chest, my laboured breathing and heartbeat deafening in my own ears. After several minutes of this, not being able to help myself, I burst into laughter.  “What?” Crowley responds in kind.

“You, good sir, are impossible,” I compliment, still breathless, and hug myself tighter to him.

Crowley heaves out a sigh and strokes my hair. “You sure pick the wrong times to mouth-off to me, love, I barely have enough energy to speak, let alone get going again.”

“Well take your time there, big boy, I’m a patient girl. I can wait awhile, if needed, for some weak-bodied man to get his game back on,” I mock.

Crowley groans. “You really are a piece of work, do you know that?”

I laugh. “Obviously. But you love me—” my voice cuts off as soon as I realise what I’ve said. _Please don’t read too much into that,_ I beg silently.

He laughs, the rumble in his chest sounding through my ears. “You know what, darling?” I crane my neck to look up at him. “I just might.”

“Whatever, smartass,” I smirk, snuggling more into him. “You’re just jealous of my incredible skills in bed.”

“Maybe,” he deliberates, continuing to stroke my hair. “You _are_ good, Ruby.” A pause. “But I’m Crowley.”  In one swift motion Crowley grabs me behind my back and rolls us over, making me giggle.  

I cup his face in my hands and purr, “You won’t be when I’m finished with you.”

“Taking charge, are we, pet?” he asks, grabbing my face.

“Obviously not,” I force out.

“Obviously not,” he repeats, squishing our faces together. “That’s _my_ job, love. Fucking you until you forget _your_ name.”

I scoff. “Good luck.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ruby begins to remember parts about the night John was killed, which drives her back into her patterns of self-loathing. She, Meg and Castiel have a drugged get-together to relax.

_Both mine and John’s breaths were coming in short rasps, our eyes forcefully kept on the other as we tried to keep them averted from the dead bodies heaped in the corner of the room. The guilt, the fear, boiling up and up inside me was making my body shake uncontrollably, my heart pounding so hard against my bones that I was surprised I was still standing and conscious. “John…” I mutter, bringing myself to gaze at the bodies, a new wave of guilt crashing into me the longer I do. They were mangled and shot and piled atop each other with such disrespect, even they didn’t deserve it. I didn’t care that they needed to be stopped or that it might have been self-defense; I couldn’t come to terms with myself concerning the events of that night._

_“It’s okay, Ruby. You did the right thing,” John comforted, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder. “And what you are about to do is only doing the inevitable. I’ve been expecting this, I am ready. And if I was ever going to die an honorable death it is here and now, by your hands. You do this, Ruby, and everything will go back to normal. You and Sam and Dean—you will all be saved.” John wraps my trembling fingers around the handle of his gun and wipes the tears freefalling from my eyes. “It’s okay, Ruby,” he repeats._

_I shook my head violently, shoving the gun back in his direction. “No! No, John. I can’t—I can’t, I won’t…” I could barely get any comprehensible words out I was sobbing so hard. “What you’re asking—it’s too much! Why—why can’t you just disappear for a while, or—or we can go after the rest of them!” I gestured at the bodies hopefully._

_John shook his head, a somber look on his face. “I’m sorry, Ruby. This is the only way. If you don’t do this, if I don’t die tonight? Azazel pulls the trigger on Sam and Dean.” A tear broke its way through his mask, dropping down onto his shirt. “I’m not going to let my sons pay for my mistakes.”_

_“But w-what do I do? What do we tell them? They’d hate me, they’d try and kill me—I’d lose the only family I have left!” I screamed, unable to convey my emotions calmly anymore. “John, you’re asking me to become a murderer!”_

_“Do you not see all these bodies in here that you helped kill tonight?” he countered, purposely aiming to get me angry._

_“That was self-defense!” I snapped, glaring at him through my veil of tears._

_John slapped me, once, twice, until I toppled into a column. He gripped a fistful of my shirt and forced me to my feet again, jamming his gun back into my hands. “This is self-defense, Ruby!” he said, his voice breaking. John’s hands were hard and angry against my body, but his eyes told a different story. He was sad and scared…so scared. He didn’t want to die. But he was right, he had no choice, if he wanted to save Sam and Dean. That damned Azazel…how could he sleep at night, doing the things he was doing to people? To John and Bobby? John never should have made that deal… “Shoot me!” John pulls my wrists and rams the gun into his chest._

_I shook my head, my sobs then uncontrollable. “No…”_

_John punches me, sending me back into the concrete wall, dislocating my shoulder. “They’ll think it was self-defense, like you said. That this whole night was. And Sam and Dean—“ he lets out a sob, “Sam and Dean will be safe. Just shoot me, damn it!” John repositioned us so we were standing face-to-face, and I was holding the gun out in his direction, aimed at his chest. “You can do this, Ruby.” He walked backward several steps, putting his arms up as if in surrender. His eyes never left mine, trying to enforce the comfort and love that was supposed to be in his words._

_I placed my other hand over the one holding the gun, trying to still the incessant tremors. The taste of salt was so strong in my mouth that it felt like I was drowning. “I c-c-can’t,” I barely choke out._

_John only nodded and said, “Yes, you can. Take my love with you.”_

_“I’m sorry,” I cried. “I’m so, so sorry.” John nodded again, giving me the go-ahead. He smiled sadly at me through his tears, longing in his eyes. I swore to myself I’d never forget those eyes, the eyes in that moment, on that face._

_The bullet buried itself in the middle of his forehead, blood spattering the wall behind him. He fell to the ground with a final_ thump _, his eyes still maintaining contact with mine as the light in them went out. I dropped the gun in disgust and screamed, running over to him. “No…no…John,” I cried, falling over his body. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…so sorry…” I wailed, repeatedly, the words reverberating throughout the room, throughout my head, my heart. Hands clasped around my arms and tried to pull me away from John, and I fought them, trying to break free. I couldn’t leave John, I had to stay with him. I couldn’t let the hands take me away from John. I threw punches blindly, fruitlessly trying to connect my fist with my assailants face. The man was speaking soft words to me, trying to calm me down, but I couldn’t listen, the world was silent except for my cries._

_Before I even knew what was happening, however, the man had me pinned against him backwards, and a needle drove itself into my neck. My body jerked hopelessly a few more times before all feeling left me and I slumped in a heap against the man. The last thing I saw was John’s dead eyes boring into the recesses of my soul like an anvil, and then all I knew was darkness._

“Ruby! Goddammit, Ruby!” a man’s voice sounds in the background of someone screaming—is it me? “Ruby it’s okay—it’s me! Shhh,” he comforts, restraining me in his arms, smoothing back my hair. It is me screaming, I can feel my throat on fire. It takes me a few more moments, but I bring my lips together and silence claims the air around us. I cough and continue to sob silently, allowing myself to relax into the envelopment of his arms, my head reeling trying to catch up to reality. “There you go, darling, it’s okay. Just take deep breaths…” he continues to soothe, and I try to obey his words, it feeling like an eternity before my breathing is under control and my eyes are finally dry. We lay there, for God knows how long, the only sounds our slow, peaceful breaths and heartbeats. “Are you with me, love?” Crowley’s accent whispers in my ear.

“Yes,” I clear my throat, “yeah, I’m—I’m here. Sorry,” I mumble.

Crowley shifts us a little, so we can look at each other. “What are you sorry for, love?” he asks, fingers still smoothing my hair.

I want to punch him. I want to punch him for being so fucking calm and accepting. Then I want to hit myself and never wake up. “For totally freaking out like that.” I sniffle, running a hand down my face. “What happened, exactly?”

“You just shot up and started screaming. I tried to get through to you but it’s like you couldn’t hear me, like you weren’t all there. But then, obviously, you seemed to calm down and begin to collect yourself.” I nod, not knowing exactly how to respond. I wrap my arms around his waist and press myself into him, just wanting to melt into nonexistence. And here and now, this is peaceful, calming. I’d be content. “Do you want to talk about it?” Crowley murmurs in my ear.

“Talk about what?” I breathe in his scent, the smell of his chest, the softness of his hair.

“The dream, what made you scared,” he replies, nuzzling his face in my mess of hair, kissing my head.

I sigh and push out of his embrace. “It’s nothing. I’m fine, don’t worry about it.” Crowley puts a comforting hand on my shoulder, silently pressing me to continue speaking. I lean into his touch, sighing again. “It’s stupid,” I say finally, “It was about John. But it’s no big deal.”

“Obviously it is, love.”

“ _Obviously_  I’m fine, really.” I turn around and give him the happiest smile I can muster. He cocks an eyebrow, clearly not believing my attempt to be alright. I gently cup his face in my hands and pull him in for a heated kiss. “Please, Crowley. I promise I will be okay.” He nods reluctantly and I kiss him again. “By the way,” I say, breathless, aiming to get my mind off things, “would you be able to shed some light on my identity?”

“Come again?” he asks, pulling back to look me clearly in the eyes.

“My name, sir. I don’t know what my name is,” I answer with mock seductiveness.

Crowley struggles to hold back a laugh and tries to cover himself with a smirk. “I guess I proved you wrong then, huh?”

“Maybe…maybe not,” I shrug. “I believe it starts with an ‘R’. Possibly an ‘R-u’. You’re gonna have to try harder next time, my king.”

“I like the sound of a next time,” he murmurs against my lips.

He sighs when I pull away, pushing myself off the bed and making my way to his closet to retrieve some clothes. My clothes are all still safely tucked away in a few duffle bags on a cleared lower shelf. Crowley rolls his eyes whenever he sees me squatting down and pulling out an outfit for the day, but never says anything further. Except for now, apparently, when I turn around and see him casually leaning in the doorway watching me. “You know, you really can unpack your stuff, darling. I don’t bite,” he draws out in his accent that makes me want to melt.  _Not now, Ruby._

“I know, I know. It’s just that—I don’t know. I will. I might,” I stutter, shimmying into the clothes I pulled out, suddenly anxious to get on with my day. I squeeze past him in the doorway, hearing his breath hitch in his throat.

“You look better without the clothes, you know,” he purrs. I look up and smile at him as I tie my shoes. “Where are you going, anyways?” Crowley asks, walking up to me.

“Nice try, my king,” I reply, giving him a quick kiss, again making him sigh. “But we just spent the last two  _days_  in bed together. I need some air. I’ll be back soon. Promise.” He hesitantly nods and steps away from me, giving me a clear go-ahead to the door. I don’t look back as I close it behind me and jog down the stairs. Unsure of whether or not to feel guilty, I breathe an immense sigh of relief once I close the front door and I’m outside, away from everything. Almost frantically I pull out my phone and dial Meg’s number. She answers after the first ring.

_Meg: Holy shit, Ruby! Where the fuck have you been? It’s been over a week of dead silence!_

_Me: I know. I’m sorry. I’ve just been…adjusting to things._  A hesitation, a deep breath.  _I’m with Crowley. I’ve been with Crowley._ Meg says nothing.  _Say something._

 _Meg:_ A sigh.  _I don’t even know what to say, Ruby._

_Me: I told you I was going to lay low with him._

_Meg: Well yeah, but…I’m worried about you. This all just feels wrong._

_Me: Okay, Meg, I hear you. But can we put that aside for the time being? I want to see you._

_Meg: Seriously?_

_Me: Yeah. Please?_

_Meg: Of course, Ruby. I would love to see you. I have something to talk to you about anyways. Want me to pick you up at Crowley’s?_

_Me: No! No…uh, pick me up a couple miles down the road from his place._

_Meg:_ Her sweet, honey-dipped laugh sounds through the phone.  _Right. Of course. See you in an hour?_

 _Me: Sounds great._ I hang up.

***

“Good God, Ruby…” Meg envelops me in a tight hug after she pulls up to me on the side of the road. “I know it’s only been like a week and a half, but it’s felt like so much longer.”

“I’m sorry,” I whisper into her hair, pulling her tighter against me. Meg only nods. I start and jump away from Meg when I hear a car door close and someone step out.

“Hello, Ruby,” says a familiar deep, raspy voice. Castiel does a sort of awkward wave in my direction, which I return half-heartedly.

Without any respect to the fact that Castiel was standing less than five feet away, I turn to Meg and snap, “Why the hell would you bring him.”

Meg shrugs defensively and replies, “He’s my boyfriend and he wanted to see you. Don’t get your panties in a bunch; he’s not going to tell anyone. He’s a good little unicorn.” Meg tugs on Castiel’s tie and pulls his face to hers, kissing him gently. I scoff and walk around them and hop into the car. It’s at least five minutes before Meg and Castiel get back in the car, Meg sending him her infamous seductive smile, mentally fucking him right there. “So…my place?” She asks, pulling back onto the road.

“Sounds good to me,” I answer, not caring to cover the edge to my tone. Castiel gives his usual curt nod. “What are  _we_  even going to do?” I ask, angrily implying the fact that there are three of us now, not only Meg and me.

“Patience, Ruby. You’re the one who called me. Let me figure something out that will satisfy your ridiculous need to lay low.” Meg spares me a quick glance before turning her attention back to the road.

“As you may recall, Meg: patience isn't one of my virtues...well, I don't have any virtues. But if I did, I'm sure patience wouldn't be one of them,” I retort.

“If it makes you feel better,” Cas interjects, turning in his seat to look at me, “I can just go home for the day so you and Meg can have your time together?”

I sigh. His puppy-eyes always fuck with my head. “No, Cas. It’s fine. I’d love for you to join us.” Though my voice still has a hint of annoyance. He cocks his head and shoots me a skeptical look before turning back in his seat. It remains silent until we get to Meg’s apartment.

“So!” Meg chirps as she flings her keys onto the hook by the door. “What will it be? Kiss-and-tell or just drink-and-tell?” She spins around after discarding her jacket and places her hands on her hips, giving me the eye.

“Well you know me; I’m always for a drink,” I answer, purposefully avoiding her obvious implication. Meg doesn’t move from her pose, silently prodding me to expand my wants. “What? Do you honestly want to know all the juicy details of my life for the past week, because I really doubt you do.”

“Oh, but I do!” Meg calls over her shoulder as she strolls to her kitchen, re-emerging a moment later with three beers, oddly enough because Castiel doesn’t normally drink. I resist the un-lady-like urge to down my beer like I’m parched and painfully take only a gentle sip before glaring at Meg. She grabs the wrist not holding my beer and drags me into the living room, seating us on a couch. Castiel follows and sits down on a chair across from us.

“Cas, do you ever take off that dirty, old trench coat?” I ask, trying to avoid the inevitable.                                                     

“Technically it’s an overcoat,” comes his raspy reply.

I roll my eyes. “You are fucking impossible, you know that?” I say, jerking my beer in his direction before taking another sip. Castiel squints at me before turning to Meg for guidance.

Meg waves it away. “It’s alright Clarence, she means it in a good way,” she nudges me in the shoulder, giving me the be-nice-glance. “Anyways, we’re not here to talk about Cas. We’re here to talk about you, Barbie!” Meg jabs a finger at my chest.

I sigh. “Ugh, you know what, Meg? So are you. You are fucking impossible as well.”  _Fuck it._  And I proceed to chug the rest of my beer. “It is not of import. I’m not talking about this.”

“Yes you are. You know why? Because I’m your best friend, that’s why. I care about what’s happening in your life and what is going on in that fucked head of yours.” Meg casually drinks some of her beer, her eyes never leaving mine.

“You’re not going to let up, are you?”

“Nope!” she smiles sweetly, trying to play innocent.

“Fine. Where do you want me to begin?” I ask, frowning at my empty beer. Castiel offers his beer out to me, shrugging his ‘ _overcoat_ ’-clad shoulders. I take it gratefully and try to give him a reassuring smile.

“Well…since you asked. How many days out of this past week have you and Crowley spent in bed together?”

Faster than I thought possible, my face heats up like ten degrees and my body stiffens. From embarrassment or longing, I don’t know. “That’s none of your business,” I rush out, burying my burning face in my new beer.

Meg bumps our shoulders together. “Oh, come on. Nothing to be ashamed of, dear. Clarence and I had several days as well this past week—“

“God, Meg!” I interrupt, holding back laughter as I catch Cas’ face, which is now similar to my own. “Look at the poor thing, your embarrassing him!”

“And I will continue to do so as long as you refuse to talk about your sexual adventures with Crowley,” she says nonchalantly.

“You are sick. You want a play-by-play of the couple days Crowley and I stayed in bed having sex that you very much so disagree with?” I counter, finishing Cas’ beer, probably too soon.

“So you did spend multiple days is bed together!” Meg says, mock incredulous.

I throw my hands up in frustration. “Yes, Meg! And that is seriously all that has happened since I got there. I spent several days binge drinking and he worked on his work-stuff and then yes, we spent a few days in bed together. But  _that is it._ ”

She gives me a once-over before shrugging and finishing her own beer. “Well, there it is. Was it good?”

“Now  _that’s_  none of your business, Meg,” I answer instead, my face getting hotter, if that’s even possible.

“What exactly are our plans for today?” Castiel cuts in. “I would assume and hope that it doesn’t only entail talking about Ruby and Crowley’s sex lives.”  _Praise him. Fucking praise Castiel._

Meg sighs in defeat. “Fine, fine. Whatever. How about we just do what we do best?”

“Emptying all the beer in your possession and fighting to kick each other’s asses in pointless, immature games?” I clarify. Meg nods happily. Cas only looks at us blankly. “I’m in.”

***

I jerk awake from a sleep I don’t remember entering and reacquaint myself with my surroundings. By the look of a clock on the wall, it is in the middle of the night and Meg and Castiel are nowhere to be seen, so I assume that they made their way to their bedroom sometime earlier in the night, leaving me on the couch. “Fuck me…” rolls off my tongue incoherently as consciousness swims in front of my eyes, fighting to claim me. I stand up and barely catch myself on the arm of the couch in time to keep myself from falling. My head is pounding and persistently yelling that I had a few too many beers, but I try and shrug it off as much as I am able and stumble through the darkness to the door, which I close as silently as my drunken brain can manage. I groan when my phone begins grinding against my leg, my brain perceiving it as another loud attempt on my life. Turns out to be a voicemail from Crowley, wondering where the hell am I, as I said I would be home for dinner. “Fuck.” I run my hand down my face and sigh.  _I was not expecting the day to pan out like this. Or night. Or whatever the hell is happening._

I pause at the top of the stairwell. What was I even doing here, where was I planning to go? I can’t go back to Crowley’s…can I? God, I would be so mortified if that scene played out. But what other option do I have? I pull out my phone and punch Crowley’s number in, only to angrily turn it off and bail out. Then pull it out again and push ‘call’ before I can stop myself. When I’m almost sure it’s going to voicemail, Crowley’s british lull sounds on the other end.

 _Crowley:_   _Finally, love. You on your way home?_

_Me: Uh, yeahjus one little problem..._

_Crowley: Where are you?_

_Me: Riverside apartments…_

_Crowley: On my way. Be there in ten, love._

_Me: Yeah…_

I hang up and stare at the phone, awed and somewhat turned on by what just happened. He actually understood my pathetic slur and didn’t ask any questions or get angry with me… “Yeah, not happening…” I mutter as I slide down the wall, unable to balance on my feet any longer.  _Was there something in my drink or did I really have that many?_

I never really figure it out before I pass out, Crowley’s arms blurring into blackness.

***

“God, what the fuck was in my drink…” I protest, rubbing my head, trying and failing to pull myself up and out of Crowley’s bed.

“Not quite sure, but my guess is a mild sedative. You’ve been out nearly sixteen hours.”  _What the hell, Meg? Seriously?_  Crowley sits on the bed beside me and offers me a mug of coffee. After another attempt I finally am able to sit up, though barely. I shakily take the mug from his outstretched hand and drink gingerly.

“Where’s my phone?” I ask in between sips.

Silently, Crowley picks it up off the nightstand and hands it to me. I dial Meg.

_Meg: Masters._

_Me: Hello, buddy of mine. Care to explain the sedative in my drink yesterday?_

_Meg:_ An uneasy laugh.  _Do you not remember? You’re the one who put it in there! We were hoping to have some fun, you know—to relax! All good fun. I slipped something similar into Cas’ fucking_ water _to see him somewhat resemble being drunk and it was greattt. Sorry you missed it._

_Me: I don’t even know what to say to that._

_Meg: Don’t say. Laugh. I can hardly understand your slurs anyways. And don’t deny it felt good._

_Me: I am neither confirming nor denying anything._

_Meg: And where are you, anyways? Ruby, I am doubly impressed that you were able to work through that haze long enough to get your ass somewhere. That takes skill._

_Me: Well you know me; I drink so much all the time I’m surprised I can still get drunk._

_Meg:_ A genuine laugh this time.  _God I love you Ruby. Call me when you’re sober._

_Me: Will do. Save me some of that stuff, though, will you? I feel like I may want some in the near future._

_Meg: You don’t have to ask me twice. Talk to you later, home nugget._

_Me: Adios, bitch._

“Well, my life just keeps getting more and more interesting,” I say, finishing my coffee.

Crowley eyes me. “So you were drugged? Are you alright, love?”

I nod. “No. Well yeah, I mean, I drugged myself. Technically. But yeah, I’m more than fine. I haven’t slept that good in ages. And it’s Meg, I can’t really stay mad at her for long. But dear god, my head aches like a motherfucker.”

Crowley rubs my head and runs his fingers through his hair. I sigh into his touch. “That better, love?” he chuckles. I nod. He leans down to whisper in my ear, “You know I do hear that sex is better on drugs like that.”

“I can barely keep my head up and you expect me to fuck you?” I continue to slur. Crowley kisses my neck in silent confirmation. “Besides,” I say, “literally all we do is have sex. Like what are we even doing with our lives?”

“Having sex,” he jokes. “Are you complaining, darling?”

“My  _body_  does, for the most part,” I groan, pushing him off me, on the verge of passing out again.

“Well your screams of pleasure seem to override any protests your body apparently seems to make. You’re the one who asks for it,” he prods seductively and resumes kissing my face and neck.

“Crowley—“ His lips meet mine and suddenly I forget anything I was about to say. My head is spinning a thousand miles an hour and I’m unable to tell whether it’s because of the aftereffects of the drugs or because of Crowley and how amazing it is to feel his mouth against mine. I lazily move my lips against his, fighting my brain’s desire to sleep and forcing my body to move with confident energy. It’s a lot harder than it seems and I nearly fall out of my chair (a habit I’ve seemed to have developed) trying to keep steady and up with him. He envelopes me in his arms and carries me upstairs, still refusing to separate our lips, even as he lays me gently onto the bed. “No. Fuck!” I whimper and hit my head, willing myself to stay awake. “Crowley I can’t, like—fuck…”

Crowley smacks me across the face so hard I roll over the bed and an unwilling tear shoots from my eye. “Well shit, Crowley, don’t sugarcoat it,” I yell, almost breaking out of my haze. My hand instinctively moves up to rub my throbbing cheek. I sit up and raise an eyebrow at Crowley, who’s only grinning at me like he’s won a prize, he’s so proud of himself. I force my weighted body to move back across the bed to him, swinging my legs over the edge and pulling him to me. “God, I’m still so out of it, you might have to try harder than that. You hit like a girl, my king,” I murmur.

He laughs, and his hand meets my face again, though my head smacking into the backboard is the last thing I’m able to comprehend.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ROUGH SMUTTT (finally)
> 
> Ruby and Crowley share an intense, lustful, sexual night. Hope you enjoy.

_“Ruby?” A light flashed across my closed eyelids. “Is she awake?” A man’s voice asked anxiously. He breathed a loud sigh of relief when I let out a soft moan, feeling beginning to flood back through my body. I tried to lift my hand to rub my throbbing head, but it fell back onto the bed like a deadweight. I moaned again, keeping my eyes closed, willing my body to go back under. “Ruby?” The man’s voice sounded again, closer. Slowly I pried my eyes open, one at a time, blinking the spots and blurred world from my vision. Bobby’s face came into focus in front of me soon after. “Oh, thank god. How are you feeling? Are you alright? I’m so sorry I had to do that to you, but I saw no other choice, Ruby. You were out of control—there was no other way of calming you down!”_

_I cleared my throat several times until I felt the raspiness leave it, but still replied in a rough voice, “Do what to me? Bobby, wh-what are you talking about?” The sound of a machine beeping made its way into my ears and I took my eyes off Bobby to find the origin of the sound. A hospital. I was in the hospital. “And what the hell am I doing here? What happened?” I tried to hide the fear in my voice._

_Bobby studied me for a moment. He sighed and said, “Ruby, it’s alright. You don’t have to play like this; what happened, happened and we will get through this together. As a family. You’re not doing anyone good denying what happened, especially to yourself.”_

_I looked at Bobby incredulously, still not understanding a word coming out of his southern mouth._ What happened? What happened that he is so dingy about? Did I do something?  _I then tried to backtrack to the last memory I had stored and found nothing. I furrowed my eyebrows in concentration, trying and failing to remember anything that happened before just now, when I woke up. “B-Bobby, I honestly have no idea what you are talking about…the last thing I remember is…I don’t know, maybe…you, me and John having a beer at your place? Planning a thing for Dean or something…” I grunted as I managed to push myself up into a sitting position and brought my hand up to massage my throbbing temple._

_“Ruby,” Bobby said sternly. “Cut the crap.”_

_I glared at him. “Cut what crap?” I flinched as my voice began to ring in my ears._

_“Are you telling me that you don’t remember a damn thing that happened the other night?” Bobby eyed me meticulously, trying to make me._

_“’The other night’?” I repeated. “How long have I been here? Can you please, for the love of God, just tell me what the fuck I am doing in a hospital and what the fuck you are rambling on about?”_

_Bobby opened his mouth to answer me, but angrily decided against it and irately trudged from the room. I saw him approach a nurse attendant and begin a heated discussion with her. He pointed in my direction a few times, and the attendant was shaking her head, looking apologetic. After a few minutes of this, the attendant walked away, leaving Bobby standing in the middle of a lobby with his arms crossed. I couldn’t tell if he was going to burst into tears or begin breaking everything in sight. He obviously decided against neither, after several minutes of deliberation, when he made his way back into my room and awkwardly sat at the bottom of my bed. It was silent while I studied him studying his calloused hands. I didn’t prod or push him into speaking, I only waited. Finally, he said somberly, “You were right, Ruby. Us three were having a beer, planning a welcome home party for Dean—”_ That’s right, he was returning from a job up in Virginia.  _“—but the thing is, you had only one beer, so when you passed out—literally right there in the middle of the kitchen floor—we knew it must’ve been something else.” He paused, cleared his throat, and then hesitantly continued, choosing his words carefully. “We brought you to the hospital. That was about three days ago. They said you came down with a mild case of mono somehow. You’ve been in and out of consciousness, and when you have been conscious, you’ve been dizzy and incomprehensive and sick. Like chills and fever and puking sick. Are you feeling better now, then?”_

_I didn’t respond right away. For some reason, I had a hard time taking all of what Bobby had just said in. I mean, yeah in some way it would make sense that I had gotten mono—it has been going around towne recently and I hadn’t been exactly faithful recently, either. But it just all seemed…random? I couldn’t place my doubts. “Um, yeah. I mean, compared to what you’re describing that has been happening, I feel fine. I don’t feel like any of that any more…”_

_Bobby laughed shakily and patted my leg. “Good. Good. You gave us quite a scare, there, Ruby.”_

_I smiled uncertainly. “Yeah, well, sorry about that. And that I missed Dean’s party.” I cleared my throat. “How did that go, anyways?”_

_He waved his hand dismissively. “Same as they always are with the Winchesters. Beer, oldies music and pool.”_

_I laughed. “Good. I’m glad it turned out okay in my absence.” I squirmed uncomfortably under the sheets and in my hospital gown, as if I was just noticing their existence. I frowned and said, “So when do I get out of here? I fucking hate hospitals.”_

_“Well now that you’re conscious, I’d assume not too much longer. Probably another night just to be sure everything remains alright and then I’ll take you home. That sound okay?” I nodded. “Just, just let me know if/when you need to talk about anything, okay?”_

_I nodded again, though something in his words and the tone of his voice didn’t portray the kind plan he was offering. Now that I was thinking about it, since we had been talking he had seemed distant, like he had much bigger things on his mind at the moment, and like he didn’t want anything more than to be far away from me right then, that he was just discarding me and relieving himself when he would take me back home. I didn’t know if it was only me being paranoid, or if Bobby was just in the middle of a project, or what, but I tried my best to move my brain past it and not put anymore thought into it. Whatever it was, Bobby probably had to deal with it on his own, or he would’ve told me._

_Right?_

_***_

“Motherfucker,” I growl, punching Crowley’s floating face away from me. I half-smile when I hear him moan and his body  _thump_  on the floor. I push through the struggle of sitting up and glare at him through my hand as it rubs my head.

He laughs, rubbing his face as well. “You pack a hard punch for someone barely conscious.”

“I try,” I beam mockingly. “Which you did as well, too fucking hard. I asked you to wake me up, not put me back under.”

All he does is laugh, still rubbing his face. “You seem fine now, though. And you were only out about a couple hours, nothing to worry about.”

Wordlessly I sink down to his level and sit on his lap, straddling him. “You seem pretty confident that I’m not angry with you.”

He shoots me a cocky smile. “Oh, I know you’re not, darling. You asked for it.”

“Did I?” He nods, craning his neck in an attempt to kiss me. I place a finger on his lips and lean back. “Oh no, no, no sir. You are going to have to earn that.”

Crowley fails to mask the desperation on his face. “And how do I do that, my queen?”

I trail my hand down his torso and press the heel of my palm against his bulging member, causing him to flinch. I raise an eyebrow at him. “Seriously?”

He shrugs his shoulders, trying to play off the strain on his face. “Pathetic, I know.” I roll my eyes and sigh, looking away from him. “Take it as a compliment, love.” I make a point of reluctantly glancing back in his direction and put more pressure on my palm. A rasped groan escapes Crowley’s lips, and he reaches for me again. After a few seconds of our lips playing cat and mouse, I allow them to finally meet. I drink him in, drink in his scent and it takes all my will power not to have him right here and now. My hands snake up to begin unbuttoning his shirt, though I decide against it and break away from the kiss. Crowley groans loudly in frustration. “What the hell are you doing?” he asks through ragged breaths.

“Why? What does it seem like I’m doing?”

“Torturing and playing off a man trying to be intimate with the woman he loves?”

“Please. I torture all my friends. It’s how I show love,” I murmur against his lips, then stand up and walk back over to the bed. Crowley grunts as he gets back on his feet and follows me, resting his hands on my shoulders. I brush his hands off and turn around, shooting my hand up to grab his face and pulling it down so he was looking me in the eye. He tries to cringe away from my grip, but I only move my hand down slightly and re-tighten my grip around his neck, causing him to flinch. I smile and lean upwards to kiss him, moving my hand to the nape of his neck and running my fingers through his hair. His hands begin moving from my legs upwards, one coming up behind my shoulders and the other resting on the small of my back, pulling me more into him.

“You know,” Crowley says, breaking the kiss, “I’m almost glad that redneck took and tortured us.”

I cock my head to the side. “And why the hell would you say that?” I try to ask casually.

“Because I’m fairly certain that if he hadn’t, we wouldn’t be here right now.” When I say nothing, he continues, “What I mean to say, is that if you hadn’t rescued me and brought me back to your apartment, and then asking me to get you out, you wouldn’t still be in my life. That was probably one of the best decisions I ever made, picking you up in that bar. Once it went south and I thought I’d never see you again, it was highly depressing.” I scoff. “No seriously! I mean it, Ruby.”

That reminded me of something. “Okay, but answer me this: That one night you broke into my apartment while I was out— _”_

“With that gay man-whore Canton? How could I forget?”

I smack his shoulder and continue, “And you  _drugged_  me. What the hell was that about? Will you tell me now?” My eyes grow wide as I witness the blood rush to Crowley’s face and his cheeks turn bright red. “Oh my god,” I hold back cooing laughter, “what could possibly be so bad or embarrassing to make the King of Hell blush?”

Crowley clears his throat and averts his eyes. “Do you want the honest answer? Or shall we just move past this whole endeavor and resume our mid-morning fuck?” he enunciates the ‘ck’ and drags it out awhile, awaiting my comment.

“I want to know what happened,” I say simply, not bothering to hold back my laughter anymore.

Reluctantly, Crowley looks me in the eye and says, “Honestly? I put a sedative in your beer to transport you efficiently in a timely manner to my house, and possibly onwards. A little birdy revealed to me some intel about Bobby soon after Sam’s…passing. I guessed he might make a move on you, so I wanted to get there first.”  _So Bobby was telling the truth_ …

“And that involved drugging me to get me away from my house?”

He shrugs. “We had to move fast and I was positive that if I told you the complete truth it would be the exact opposite of fast.”

I nod. Admittedly, he did have a point. If he had shown up in my apartment and been like, “Hey, Sam’s dead, I might have killed him, and Bobby blames you somewhat for his death so come along, Ruby we have to make haste,” I would have, first of all, smacked him stupid, then screamed at him, kick him out, and then I would’ve been gone, taken by Bobby. Well, that happened anyways, but still.

Listen to me, justifying a strange man knocking me out with drugs and attempting to kidnap me. “It is beyond fucked up that I love you, that I allow you to and accept all this shit you do to me.”

“Now that you say it, yes. Yes it is.” He shoots me a thousand-watt smile.

I lean back in his arms and look him over. “Can I slap you like a normal person for drugging me now?”

Crowley steps back and gestures to his face dramatically. “Do your worst,” he laughs.

I reciprocate his laughter and am unable to hold my word. “Ach, now I can’t! Not when you do it like that!”

He breaks his pose and smiles back at me. Before I can make any move against him, he pulls me to him and makes us fall back onto the bed, maneuvering us so he is now straddling over me. He opens his mouth to say something, but I kiss him quick and say, “With all due respect, sir: shut the fuck up.” Crowley closes his mouth and smiles slyly at me, then begins the job of stripping me of my clothes, until a few moments later I am laying underneath him in only my bra and panties. He runs his hands along my arms, down my torso and my legs, feeling every inch of me with his soft fingers. I shudder under his touch, and he begins to trail kisses from my waist up to my neck and finally my mouth, reeling me in to a deep, heated kiss. “Have I earned you, yet?” he breathes against me. All I can do is nod as I pull him back to me and press our lips together again, while Crowley’s hands continue to move around my body, as if unsure of where to plant them. I close my eyes and lose myself in his lips and hands, thinking how amazing it is that after all this time he is still able to leave me speechless and lustful.

My hands move to do the same, but instead shove him upwards and say, “Fuck, Crowley, take your clothes off.” Without hesitation Crowley wiggles out of his suit jacket and begins unbuttoning his shirt as I begin undoing his pants. He quickly hops off the bed to kick his pants and boxers off, and I shimmy out of my panties, which soon join the now-apparent heap of clothes on the floor. Crowley crawls back onto the bed and over me. I breathe out a satisfactory sigh once my hands make contact with his heated skin and proceed to run them down his heaving chest, around his shoulders, unable to keep still or decide where to keep them. Crowley does the same with his lips, sucking me dry as he teases my entrance, making me fidget uncomfortably as my arousal becomes more apparent. My breaths begin to leave my mouth in short rasps between kisses, and my fingers dig into his shoulder blades as I restrain myself from yelling at him or asking for anything, not wanting to come off as ‘too desperate’. But good Lord, Crowley needed to do _something_ soon or his queen is not going to be too happy.

I whimper when Crowley’s presence disappears from my nether regions entirely, seemingly denying me any pleasure for the time-being. I bite my lip hard, continuing to silence my pressing desires and complaints. He tilts my chin towards him with two fingers and bends down to reel me into a deep kiss, all the while he pries my hands away from his shoulders and slides them up over my head until they caress the wooden posts of the headboard. “I found them,” he whispers against my sore lips. I look at him skeptically, not understanding the items he is referring to.

I get my answer a few moments later when suddenly there’s the cool feeling of metal pressing around my wrists. I tilt my gaze upwards and, sure enough, Crowley has just restrained me to his bed with handcuffs. “Please tell me you did not go out and buy these after that little episode of ours,” I drag out while rattling around in the cuffs, the anticipation rising in my throat causing my voice to break.

Crowley mocks disbelief and counters, “I told you I left them in the car, didn’t I?”

“ _You_ own a set of handcuffs?” I ask, surprised. Though I probably shouldn’t be, now that I think about it.

He shrugs his shoulders and smiles at me, making me melt further. “They come in handy every now and then.” I can’t help but smile back. The joking atmosphere nearly immediately turns back into one of lust and power, Crowley taking my face in his hands roughly and planting a short-lived bruising kiss that, again, sends my head spinning. He makes a trail of kisses down my chin, my neck, my torso, spreading my legs while still continuing downwards until he reaches my throbbing entrance. I moan and my back arches off the bed in an attempt to ease my quivering body somewhat, only to be slammed back down and detained by one of his strong hands. Crowley snickers and goes to work, continuing to hold me down. His tongue snakes out and teases along my clit before licking a line to my hole, which he laps into almost greedily. I try and fail at suppressing a groan, which unwillingly escalates as his tongue becomes more persistent against that sweet spot. My body begins to thrash and it becomes unbearable to be so restrained. I am on the verge of screaming when both my voice and breath are snagged by something as my peak, my release start to protest my lack of them.

Crowley detaches himself for a moment to sooth, “It’s okay, my queen. Please, release yourself.” I bite my lip again and shake my head, moaning in dissent. The hand splayed on my stomach pushes itself up to my neck, Crowley following it soon after. He squeezes just enough to hinder my air supply only slightly, then growls next to my painfully scrunched face, “If I tell you to cum, then you fucking cum, pet.” I moan again, though this time in reluctant obedience. He harshly releases his grip on my throat and air begins to revitalise my lungs as he resumes his position between my legs, hand pressed on my stomach, intent on finishing the task he started. Unwillingly, noises begin escaping my throat as I build back up, still hesitant about letting myself go. Crowley seems to sense this and starts clawing down my legs, making me shudder even more. “Ruby,” he growls again.

I try to sigh in annoyance, but I am not sure what otherworldly sound comes out instead. But then I’m unable to deny my body any longer and I allow the orgasm to shoot through me, though it’s laced with pain as I still hold back my release. I inhale my screams as the feelings become so intense that I’m incapable of breathing normally any longer. Crowley grips me with his hands tighter, undoubtedly leaving bruises for me to wake up to. “I can do this all night, love,” he snarls, “Take you, ride you, to your peak, then above, over and over until there’s nothing left of you and you have no bloody choice but to cum for your king.”

“Holy fuck,” I manage to mutter, throwing my head back and trying to get some message across to my body to calm the fuck down. Which doesn’t seem to be working.

Crowley purposely pushes down hard on my torso as he pulls himself back up to my level and he looks into my strained eyes with practised patience. I stifle a groan and try to look him back with composure but am unable to, my face contorted in more of a grimace. He places his hands on either side of my waist and trails them up slowly until they trace my arms up to my wrists, where he settles his hands. My uncontrollable moans and shivers don’t seem to faze him as he continues to look me over and torture me slowly. One hand leaves mine and grasps at the nape of my neck, tugging me upwards and locking our lips together. This relaxes me somewhat and I deepen the kiss as much as I am able to in my current situation. Making myself oblivious to anything else other than his lips, I’m caught unawares when he thrusts into me and accidently drag my teeth down his lower lip, drawing blood. I stare at it and reach up to lick it off, trying to convey my apologies through my kiss. He returns the favour, but pulls back and slaps me across the jaw anyways, aiming to draw some blood of his own. The metallic taste that follows confirms his victory. He kisses me gently, soothing my hurt lip, then begins pumping in and out, grinding harshly against me.

It is now that I begin to really fight against the cuffs, the urges killing me. Crowley, somehow, manages to go even deeper, even faster, even harder. Our bodies move in a frenzy against each other, succumbing to their desperation and demanding more than either of us can give. He rides me to my peak again, then even further as the orgasm he induces overpowers every single atom of my existence and I legitimately can do nothing other than exist. I can’t move, I can’t think, I can’t breathe; only be there and feel that sensation, that pleasure that is unlike anything anyone has ever felt before.

I don’t know how long I remained in that euphoric state, though when my other senses start coming back to me, it is slow-going and shocking. Muffled noise slowly builds into deafening screams and howls and uncontrollable utterances unable to break for air. I can’t tell which body belongs to who and all I can feel is heat and slickness and the dying-out of my pleasure, intensifying my cries. An unidentifiable amount of time passes by before I realise that I am no longer restrained in anyway. Lethargically I grope the air until I make contact with skin and pull myself closer to it, feeling naked without it. My breathing becomes unpainful as my lungs relay that they are finally satisfied, my heartbeat reduced back to normalcy. I am not sure when I’m dragged into unconsciousness, but I do know that things between Crowley and I will never be the same.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ruby remembers more about her relationship with John. Bobby returns to continue his revenge on Ruby and Crowley.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still incomplete, but here is the first part!

I don’t remember waking up, and I don’t remember when Crowley and I became lip-locked, either. His hands feel like fire licking at my extremities, the mixture of my cold skin and his heated skin making me shiver as I adjust. I try to get his name to roll off my tongue, but my body seems to be on strings and all it can do is be touched, moved and only told what to do, an aftereffect of the previous night. I give up trying to gain my body back, giving it wholly unto my king, moving my lips against his when required, or creating a canvas out of my skin for both his hands and slick mouth, ghosting all over me in unknown time.

“Open your eyes, my queen,” his voice orders. I hadn’t even known they were closed, but I forcefully comply, still unable to move normally. My eyelids feel like they’ve been turned to lead, my brain a muddled mush of God knows what. “Are you with me, Ruby?” the tone in his voice slowly becomes one of worry. I try to ease him, but am still incapable to move as I should be.

And then I can’t move at all.

White, hot pain flashes through my being, and I feel my eyes lull back into my head and my eyelids drape heavily over them. I am aware of everything, yet aware of nothing as I try to grasp reality. But no matter how high I reach, how hard I struggle, I cannot reach it. I’m falling down oblivion and I don’t know how to stop. _What the hell is happening?_ is all my thoughts can congregate around. “Ruby?” Crowley’s voice sounds more urgent, more animated than the seductive tone it was taking only moments before. “Ruby!” I only barely feel his strong hands grasp either of my shoulders and my body begin to rattle. My mind loses count of how many times he continues to yell my name, each time more intense than the last. I reach and run so hard to make it back to him, using his voice as a ladder out of this pit I am falling into but he keeps getting farther and farther away and suddenly I can’t hear him at all anymore, and I am sucked into unprecedented darkness and pain.

Is this what death feels like?

_“Of course,” John’s voice sounded over the panic that had then overridden my senses. “When wouldn’t I be here for you, Ruby? You know you always have my support.”_

_I looked up at him with eyes swimming in persistent tears, forcing my brain to only perceive one of the man, not three. How many beers had I had? Obviously an embarrassingly nasty amount, and yet there John was, always there for me regardless of my fuck-ups or alcohol drenched stupidity. “I never know how to thank you for your kindness and love,” I slurred._

_John smoothed back the hair sticking to my damp forehead. “Don’t,” he said, looking at me with ocean-blue eyes, “you needn’t ever, Ruby. I will always be here for you, and that will never change. I made you a promise all those years ago, and I am not about to go break that over one measly, little misdemeanor. And between you and me,” he whispered, “that good-for-nothing bastard deserved it. That sector is better off without you—don’t sweat getting fired. It’s their loss.” I half-heartedly laughed as I continued to lose myself in his eyes. They were so blue and full of life that they seemed too pure to be looking at the likes of me. But that didn’t stop me from stupidly reaching over and desperately pressing my mouth to his, the need to taste him overwhelming. John abruptly pulled back, his youthful eyes looking at me with the most intense shock. He inhaled, about to ridicule me no doubt, but I forced my lips on his again, pushing him up against the wall. Repeatedly I cut off his words with my mouth, my fingers working their way down the buttons on his shirt. John pressed his palms against the wall, holding himself back and refused to indulge my drunken admirations. I became more persistent; I practically tore and tugged at his clothing, I violated his face and neck with kisses full of lust I didn’t know I had._

_“You fucking coward,” I muttered against him, “I know you want me. Take me, John Winchester. Fucking take me right now.” I grabbed his wrists and forcefully thrust his hands on my body, maneuvering them myself over my glory until they began to move of their own accord. He was slow, agonisingly hesitant at first, still obviously debating whether or not to give into his sinful desires. Though the more I moved against his heaving body, the more his reluctance dissipated. John mirrored my lust and suddenly he was all over me, ravenous, as if having never tasted before. He clawed hungrily at the clothing separating us, drawing streaks of blood in the process. The bed protested loudly when we toppled onto it and John impatiently thrust his length into me without any prompting or forewarning. “Fuck!” I cried as his dick angrily penetrated and speared me repetitively, his hip bones furiously ramming into mine over and over again. My body was unable to decide whether it wanted to feel the pain or the pleasure, so I received a mixture of both. The orgasm that quickly followed left me breathless and had me screaming John’s name in an unholy manner. His body buckled and shuddered as he howled his pleasure to the sky, unable to contain himself any longer. His lips began mating with my skin again, in anywhere he was able to locate on such short notice._

_I nearly screamed in displeasure as John exited me and the empty feeling he left made me tremble uncontrollably. I pulled him up to me by the roots of his hair, causing him to grunt painfully, and slapped him hard across his cheeks, his face turning an angry red. In a frenzy I pulled him back to me and made love to his lips as my hand snaked its way downwards to grasp his wet cock. John broke for air, inhaling his pleasure. “Good lord, John,” I heaved, tightening my grip and making him cringe. “Come back to me,” I commanded. Those eyes looked into me again and shone in brilliance as he positioned himself once more between my legs. I sighed satisfactorily when he penetrated my defenses again, though this time I rolled us over, and rode him._

_My hands pushed down on his chest for support as I grinded on top of John. His hands draped themselves over mine and he made to grind in time with me as he drew nearer to his peak. “Oh god,” I yelled, the orgasm rippling through my body into his and radiating through the both of us like lightening, and I was unable to distinguish between which body was whose. “God, I’m cumming,” I exhaled, and John nodded in approval. Pleasure continued to rack through me as I felt my release, and John grunted as his followed soon after. I then laid myself over his chest and hugged myself to him, refusing to let this moment go. My brain tried to find the right words to speak, but it was unable to and my voice halted in painful silence. John’s hand trailed its way up my back and gripped a handful of my hair, tilting my face up to meet his. The kiss was deafening and caused me to forget how wrong that whole situation was. I had John, finally, and he had me. Why should there be anything wrong with that?_

_Before I even knew what was happening, however, he turned us around and powerfully restrained my arms above my head with one hand, the other immediately flying to my neck. My lungs cried in protest, my chest ignited on fire as my life was seemingly being choked out of me. I fought and struggled against his restraint with all the power I could muster, but my energy quickly began to fade away as blackness started dancing at the edges of my vision and I knew that that was it—John was going to kill me. And I was powerless._

_But I deserved it. What I did—it was more than a “misdemeanor”, and we both knew it. What I did was horrific and was undeserving of forgiveness, which John was clearly confirming. He had been playing me from the moment he walked through that door, offering me his “help”. He only came that night for one reason and one reason alone—to end my pathetic and disappointing existence._

_And I fell for it._

_I was so blinded by lust that I fell for it, and now I was dying because of it. John claimed my heart and my life in the span of a night, giving me up to the devil to serve my dues._

“Ruby!” John’s angered face mouthed at me, though it was not his voice that came out. Instead, it was a gruff, British growl that nearly broke my eardrums. “Ruby!” the voice came from John again, though his image was beginning to waver and shimmer like rings in the water. “Ruby, stay with me!” it yelled again, and Crowley’s form began to leak into my view drop by drop, the voice finally finding its owner. He looked pain, panicked, scared. Confused. Red. Crowley was red, and so was the world. His clothes, the floor—or was that the ceiling? I have no idea, as my mind continues to race to un-muddle the crimson world around me, but to no avail. Fruitlessly I resume the effort of sending movement signals out to the rest of me, but those continue to fail as well. Crowley’s face begins to grow closer until I swear we are going to collide with one another and explode into red, but at the last second it drops downwards, landing mere centimetres from mine. His mouth slowly keeps forming words that I’ve stopped hearing and then his image ripples away again, this time the darkness that claims me not as kind.

***

The first noise I hear once I begin to gain consciousness again is a steady _beeping_ sound, one beep sounding after the other in perfect rhythm, never ceasing or slowing. I pry my eyes open and soon regret it as white blares into my vision, making my head pound irately. I groan and would be joyous that I am able to finally send sound from my lips, movement to my eyes, but I feel too much like shit to even remember my own name.

The world comes back to me in chunks, first the light fixtures above me clarifying themselves, then the picture hanging on the wall opposing me. I fight against my lethargy to move my head, even in the slightest, to catch more of a glimpse of my surroundings.


End file.
